Shifting Images: The Circle of Necessity
by Iced Blood
Summary: Discontinued. See "Cult of the Dragon King."
1. Sandwiches of Destiny

_****__**THIS STORY HAS BEEN DISCONTINUED. ANYONE INTERESTED IN THE EVENTS DESCRIBED HERE SHOULD HEAD TO MY PROFILE AND TAKE A LOOK AT "CULT OF THE DRAGON KING," WHICH IS A MORE RECENT—MORE THOROUGHLY FLESHED OUT, RESEARCHED, AND BETTER PACED—VERSION. I APOLOGIZE FOR ANYONE WHO ENJOYED THIS PARTICULAR WORK. IT SIMPLY NO LONGER HOLDS TO MY STANDARDS AS A WRITER. I WILL KEEP THESE CHAPTERS ONLINE FOR ANYONE WHO ENJOYED THEM, BUT I WHOLEHEARTEDLY RECOMMEND LOOKING INTO ITS SPIRITUAL SUCCESSOR.**_

* * *

_**Hello, all.  
**_

_**Back again for the first time in the new year, and it's with...something you've probably never seen before.  
**_

_**I realize that, considering my months-long hiatus, maybe my first post shouldn't have been a new project. Many of you, if not most or all, probably would rather that I had updated one of my other works, that have suffered from neglect for so long.**_

_**But you see here the thing responsible for those months of neglect. For reasons known only to the Old Gods, I decided in January to take on the Sisyphean task of writing 250,000 words by the end of March, in exchange for a 200 dollar gift card. **_

**_You have here the first pieces of that work, the opening act of the longest story I've ever attempted. And I hope you find it entertaining. I surely did. _**

**_So, with that out of the way, let us begin._**

* * *

** Preface:**

**Sandwiches of Destiny**

* * *

Some stories are inspired by the imaginations of children.

Some stories are inspired by the need to understand the unknown. Some stories are inspired by the heroes of old, by those ancient figures we of contemporary societies can hardly fathom the actuality of. Some stories are inspired by events so extraordinary that they fall into the annals of fiction's history despite the truth of their existence.

Some stories are inspired by a two-liter of Diet Dr. Pepper and a sandwich made with store-brand peanut butter and an oddball concoction some backyard rocket-scientist decided to call razzleberry jam.

Don't understand? Good; you're not alone.

Stuff isn't bad, though.

Anyway, back on track and full-focused and whatever else.

Imagine, my enraptured audience, holding in your hands a book filled with pictures. Black-and-white, right-to-left, exceedingly stylistic pictures. Pictures more often than not recreated in full color to be tossed onto the screen of that hypnosis machine you probably keep on no matter what's on, because the remote is gone and you can't be bothered to find it.

Confused yet? Yeah, me too. Let's get on with it.

We all watch anime. And if we don't, we should. Why? It's better than other television. Take your favorite live-action show and anime-ize it. Yes, smart guy, I made that word up. Roll with it.

So yes; anime-ize. Makes it better, doesn't it?

Okay, maybe it doesn't.

Never mind, then. Moving on.

You know it isn't real. It can't be real. It's entertainment, pure and simple, and there's no arguing it.

I'm about to argue it.

This wall of text staring you down right now is the beginning of a tale that will take you down the course of that argument. You think it's fake? You think it's just entertainment?

Yeah, so did he. And he was wrong.

Who _is _he? I'm getting to that.

But maybe you know who he is, already. You probably should. But let's introduce him just in case you don't, so there aren't any unwelcome interruptions later.

I'm a busy man.

He's a bundle of paradoxes, is what he is. He's physically attractive but socially inept. Mentally superior but emotionally crippled.

He's the child who became a parent.

He's the preppy who became a bully.

He's the atheist who became a god.

* * *

**Prologue:**

**The Day Sanity was Murdered**

* * *

It was funny, in a cosmic sort of way. Just...not the sort of funny that he found amusing. Funny in an awkward, grating, I-want-to-jump-under-a-bus sort of way.

When first they'd met, Kaiba Noa had struck his elder stepbrother as a stuffy, arrogant, bitter little troll whose only goal in life was to fray his nerves. But, that was when he had been an adult trapped in a virtual child, stuck as a perpetual preteen in a world that didn't matter. Now, he was in the _real_ world.

And he was an outgoing, hyper, playful little idiot whose only goal in life was to fray his stepbrother's nerves.

Seto Kaiba (he called himself that because it caused fewer stupid questions; "Uh...huh-huh...your name's all backward! Har!") had no one to blame but himself, he supposed, for allowing the proverbial third wheel of the Kaiba family to start rolling again.

Through methods of science he refused to let leak into public knowledge (and a few methods of non-science, complements of a particular ex-pharaoh who'd decided to help out without asking first), Kaiba Noa was fully alive again.

By fully, of course, Seto meant annoyingly.

And apparently Noa had decided to take full advantage of that, and act out on every chance he got, embracing a personality so far from what Seto would have expected of him that it was almost dizzying.

Noa's body was twenty years old, a scant year less than his elder brother and eight more than his younger. And while he had taken physically after Seto in such a way as to force everyone they met to assume they were twins, mentally he had latched onto Mokuba to form the meta-Kaiba, a combination of both his siblings that was utterly mystifying to Seto because it was like looking into a behavioral fun-house mirror.

Noa knew this, of course, and that was probably half the reason he acted as outrageously as he possibly could on most occasions. He had _also _taken after Joey Wheeler in that sense because his most beloved activity on God's green earth was nettling Seto straight into a little white jacket with connected arms and several buckles.

All of these thoughts passed Seto's mind, spiraling atop his usual myriad of mental patterns like a sudden rainfall, as the doorbell rang. He watched, frowning, as Noa leaped over the edge of the couch Seto currently sat on, feet barely missing his right shoulder, bounding for the front door.

"Got it, Aniki!" he called, and Seto rolled his eyes.

"You assume answering the door is a favor to me; I was pretending not to be home."

Noa shrugged like it didn't matter (and to him, it surely didn't) and grabbed the knob.

Seto had no way of knowing, at that point, the chain of events Noa would set in motion by answering that particular summons.

If he had...well, there was no sure way of knowing _what _he would have done, but tackling Noa and slamming his head into the floor over and over and over again until he fell unconscious (and a few more times afterward) might have been an option.

But, sadly, that was not to be.

The door opened, and the world ended.


	2. Preordained Burden

_**To those who reviewed my introductory chapter, I thank you. It's your feedback that keeps me in the game. Here's another taste of my madness for you, and this time something happens. Aren't you excited? Sure, you are.  
**_

_**I feel ashamed to have forgotten this in my first post, so I will say it here, with chagrin but with no less sincerity.**_

_**This work is dedicated, wholeheartedly and with more gratitude than I know how to express, to **_**darkokita**_**; without you, I never would have kept my sanity throughout this endeavor. Thank you so much for your help and your encouragement, and for being the first to take on the burden of reading this behemoth in its roughest form.**_

_**Take a bow, my friend. You deserve it.**_

**_With that said, on with the show._**

* * *

"_It really is mind-boggling, what that boy has done for himself. Most people see a pretty face, or an accomplished card player. What most of us – myself included – don't remember most of the time is that he was a billionaire before he could legally drive."_

**Pegasus Crawford**

"_Having seen him in the arena, and worked with him in his offices, I've only ever solidified my first impression of him: he's absolutely merciless."_

**Duke Devlin**

"_It doesn't matter to me who it is, or what they say about him. I only have one thing to say to anybody who thinks they know anything about my brother: you're wrong."_

**Kaiba Mokuba**

**- "Minds of Modern Technology," Chapter 12: Kaiba Seto**

* * *

**SHIFTING IMAGES  
**

* * *

**BOOK 1: **

**THE CIRCLE OF NECESSITY  
**

* * *

**I:**

**Preordained Burden  
**

* * *

Noa's first thought was that the person on the other side of the door was most certainly _not _a girl scout.

He raised an eyebrow at the woman standing on the porch, trying to figure out whether she was actually familiar or not. "Uh...y'ello," he said.

"Good afternoon," the woman replied in a soft, cultured voice, in an accent that – like the rest of her – sounded familiar and yet not. "I'm looking for Seto Kaiba? I believe he lives here, yes?"

"Prob'ly."

Noa glanced over his shoulder. "Oi, Aniki. Door."

"I hadn't guessed."

Seto stepped up beside Noa and crossed his arms. "Ishtar."

The woman was tall, with straight black hair and a golden necklace adorned with a symbol Noa recognized immediately: the Eye of Horus, the same ancient symbol adorning Yugi Motou's Millennium Puzzle. Noa doubted that was mere coincidence.

But the necklace was the only odd thing about the woman called Ishtar's attire; she was otherwise dressed casually, in tight blue jeans and a cream-colored turtleneck sweater. Standing with her hands behind her back, she looked at Seto's obviously uninterested face with a calm intensity that was somewhat unnerving.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb, here, and say you've met," Noa said idly, stuffing his hands into his white slacks.

"Mister Kaiba," Ishtar said, and raised an eyebrow as she gestured with her eyes at Noa. "A new addition to your family, I take it?"

"That depends," Seto said curtly. "Would you consider mildew a new addition to your kitchen's décor?"

"Hey!"

Seto ignored Noa's indignant scowl. "What do you want?"

"My brother wishes to speak with you," Ishtar answered, "and asked that I approach you first."

Seto's face darkened, eyes narrowing. It was an expression Noa was used to; it wasn't often that Seto _liked _anybody, after all. But there was a very particular vehemence about the displeasure etched in Seto's sharp face this time that told Noa this brother of Ishtar's was someone he very clearly did _not _want to discuss.

"Your brother," Seto said, and his voice was much colder than usual. "I assume you aren't referring to Rishid. Tell me, then, why you thought this would work. If I am to take you at your word, that trinket you wear allows you to see into the future. You should have 'foreseen' this."

He gripped the door and moved to slam it shut.

Noa held it open. "Hold on, there, turbo," he said, knowing that it was a bad move. Seto was clearly not only angry but insulted, and to cross him now was especially risky.

Kaiba Noa wasn't one for caution.

"No need to be rude, here," he said, "What'd this brother o' hers do, anyway?"

"Oh, nothing worth mentioning..." Seto replied scathingly. "I'm sure Mokuba _liked _dangling out of a moving helicopter."

Noa's face went blank, and the hand holding the door open dropped to his side. "...Pardon me?"

"I'm not entirely certain how you thought I would react to the idea of you asking me to invite a man who kidnapped my brother into my home," Seto snarled at the woman, "but let me enlighten you: _No."_

"Malik has changed, Mister Kaiba," Ishtar said sharply.

"Wonderful."

"There's no need to be so belligerent about this—"

"There never _has _been a _need _for it, Ishtar," Seto snapped. "You apparently think I _care _what your brother wants to tell me. I know it's _shocking, _but I prefer not to socialize with people who find it acceptable – in _any _state of their life – to hold a child hostage. Especially _mine._"

Noa frowned, and he looked even more identical to his stepbrother than ever. "Sorry, babe. Usually I'd play Devil's Advocate, but...I gotta take Aniki's side on this one."

"This is important, Mister Kai-"

_"Look,_ Miss Ishtar," Noa interjected, and his voice was hardly polite, "you seem nice enough, but you aren't listening. If your brother did what _my _brother says he did, then he isn't welcome here."

Noa moved to close the door this time.

"Wait."

And, stunned at the suddenness of the voice, Noa waited.

A young man - with messy bleach-blond hair cut at his shoulders, dressed in black jeans and a white button-down shirt - stepped onto the porch.

"I understand if you don't want to speak to me," he said, putting a hand on the woman's shoulder. "I didn't expect you to. I just wanted Isis to tell you I was here. I don't expect forgiveness for what I've done to your family, but...I need to give you something."

"I want nothing you have to offer," Seto said, and turned his back on the man who was obviously Isis Ishtar's brother.

"Neither of us have a choice in the matter," the man said. "Deny it as long as you want; you will be drawn to it. Eventually."

"You have the same especially irritating habit that Motou has," Seto said, not turning. "You assume I believe you when you speak to me like that. Whatever it is you think you need to give me, leave it on the porch and find your way off my property. I'll have it disposed of."

The man chuckled. "I expected an answer like that."

He reached behind his back.

"I apologize in advance for this, Seto Kaiba," he said, "but...it's your burden now."

Seto kicked the door shut.

* * *

**II:**

** Something Gold Can Stay  
**

* * *

Mokuba Kaiba came home from school in a mood that was the precise opposite of what he'd expected.

Like many boys his age (that was, twelve), the youngest Kaiba brother didn't much care for exams. And that was especially true for exams in subjects he wasn't any good at.

Unlike his elder siblings, Mokuba had never been all that great at math. He did decently enough, but that wasn't to say he was especially gifted, or even slightly so.

Mokuba knew of many other boys in his class that would – and had – simply given up. An F was a given, and there was no need to fight against the inevitable, was there?

But Mokuba hadn't done that; his brother would know, and the outcome would _not _be pretty. Seto always knew when Mokuba didn't put in his full effort, and never approved of it when it happened.

But this time, he had had no reason to worry. Some way, somehow, he'd managed to score a 93 percent, the highest he'd ever gotten. His teacher had praised him, noting that while he had begun the semester with a somewhat lackluster performance, he was steadily improving. The anxiety that had been gnawing at him for over a week had blinked away, leaving him with a nothing-everything sort of feeling that felt numb and tingly all at once.

And Mokuba's only thought was that he couldn't wait to show Seto.

As the limousine pulled into the front gates of the Kaiba Estate, Mokuba fished the stapled sheets of paper out of his backpack and grinned as he looked them over again.

He kept scanning his answers (and more importantly, the slightness of red marks marring them) as he walked – practically skipped – up to the front door.

As he stepped up onto the porch, though, something else drew his eye.

Something golden - something glinting in the sunlight - lying on the doormat. It was a foot-long rod, pointed at the end, with a circular head atop it. Two crescent protrusions jutted out from either side of it, making it look like a miniature, shining gold axe.

Mokuba, like Noa, instantly knew what the thing was...at least partly.

The symbol adorning the small artifact's head was the Eye of Horus, and the particular way it was portrayed looked identical to the puzzle Yugi Motou wore constantly around his neck. It was a Millennium Item.

Mokuba thought he recognized the device; it was familiar.

Confused but nonetheless intrigued, he picked it up. It seemed to hum with some unnamed energy in his hand, and the feeling was disconcerting, to say the least.

But again...it was familiar.

Mokuba opened the door with his free hand, forgetting the reason he had been waiting so impatiently to get home.

* * *

"Niisama?"

Seto glanced up from the screen of his laptop as Mokuba stepped into the room, and wasn't much surprised to see the golden rod in the boy's hand.

But the blank, confused expression on Mokuba's face made him the slightest bit nervous.

"Mokuba," he said by way of greeting.

"I, uh...found this outside?" the boy said, holding up the rod.

"Malik Ishtar was here earlier today. He apparently left that here." Seto said this dismissively, as if Mokuba's former abductors always made random day trips to the estate to drop off gifts.

"Huh? Why?"

"He said it was my 'burden' now. Do whatever you want with it, Mokuba. I don't care."

Mokuba frowned slightly. "But...if it's s'posed to be yours, then...shouldn't _you _take it?"

"I don't want it. It's an oversized toothpick. Send it to Motou or something. He'll appreciate it."

Seto expected – or at least hoped – that to be the end of the discussion, but Mokuba was shaking his head.

"I...I don't know, Niisama. That...doesn't feel right. I think...I think maybe you should keep it."

Seto raised an eyebrow. "...Doesn't _feel _right? What are you talking about, Mokuba?"

"I...don't know. It just doesn't sound like a good idea. Why don't you just keep it?"

Seto realized that it was hardly important enough to argue about, and sighed as he shook his head.

"...Whatever," he said. "I don't really care one way or another."

Mokuba walked over to his brother and held the golden artifact out to him. Again, Seto saw something unnerving in the boy's gray-violet eyes, and the hand holding the rod seemed to shake the slightest bit.

The rod was...vibrant. Brighter than its surroundings. It was like the eye adorning the bladed head was some breed of black hole, drawing in the focus of everything, the very fabric of reality, into itself; like it was the only tangible thing in the world.

Seto blinked, shook his head, and scoffed derisively; it was a hunk of metal. Nothing else.

He reached out and grasped the handle with three fingers, intent on tossing it onto the end-table at his left hand and forgetting about it.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

* * *

_**Those of you who read my ill-fated "Paradoxical Parenthood" may recognize this general scene. You'll notice, of course, that Miss Serenity Wheeler is conspicuously absent, and the reason for that is plainly because I've grown out of my advocacy of that particular match-up. I've changed my mind about it, and no longer endorse it.**_

_**The reason I chose to - basically - rip off my own earlier work, here, is because I had very little time to plan this story. Having begun it with a deadline of just over two months, I put very little thought into just how I would begin, nor where I would end up, nor even how I would get there.**_

_**I'll admit here and now that Noa's personality is a far cry from anything I've ever done before nor - should I expect - what many of you would have ever expected. The general plot of this story was crafted many years ago, and I stuck with many of my decisions back then. And thus, Noa is rather different here than he is in, for example, "Back from the Dead."**_

_**But that, I think, makes him fun. So I hope I may be forgiven.**_

_**See you next time.**_


	3. Everlasting Ancestry

_**Hello, again. Welcome back.**_

**_A few notes before we begin: _**_**As stated previously, Noa is an entirely different breed of character now. I originally drafted this story back when I was thirteen or so, before I'd ever really gotten a grasp on the real character, and so I had used as my basis a version of Noa that I had read on some random story the title of which I don't remember.**_

_**I believe one of the general themes of that story was a rivalry between Seto and Noa for Mokuba's attention. I don't remember details, but I think that's where the idea of making Noa the veritable opposite of Seto came from, which is why his speech patterns so resemble Joey's.**_

_**I've used the same characterization of Noa that I did in the original "Shifting Images," now so old and dusty and...well, badly done, because after a while I grew quite fond of him. I wanted to show you. I know he's not himself, but again...I think that makes him fun.**_

_**And now, the show goes on.**_

* * *

**III:**

**Everlasting Ancestry**

* * *

The moment Seto laid his hand on the surface of the rod, his arm locked, suddenly as rigid as a bar of steel. Mokuba stumbled back in surprise as his brother's eyes went wide, their cobalt depths flashing a bright, burning gold for a split second before he slumped backward onto the couch.

He went still.

Limp.

"...Niisama?" Mokuba asked tentatively. "Niisama? H-Hey..."He reached out and touched Seto's shoulder, shaking him slightly.Even through the fabric of his shirt, Seto was cold.

Too cold.

"Niisama?!" the boy cried, snatching his hand back as if hoping that it would cause Seto to wake up, the worst possible conclusion jumping immediately to his mind. "N-Niisama? _Niisama!!"_

Noa came bolting into the room, nearly tripping over the threshold of the doorway, only inches from barreling over the arm of the couch. "Hey, what's going on? What's wrong, kiddo? What...oh, shit."

Mokuba whirled to his stepbrother with wild fear in his eyes, as if Noa were a predator and he were the prey. Or...as if he were a fugitive, and Noa were an FBI agent.

"What...what's wrong with him?" the boy squeaked, terror causing his voice – and body – to tremble. "Noa, w-what happened? Did I...did I...? He...he's not...he's not breathing! Niisama's not breathing! He's pale! Oh, God, he's...he's...! I...I...!"

Noa saw the golden rod clenched in Seto's locked fist.

His countenance darkened. "No...no, Mokuba. You didn't do this. But I know who did..."

"I..._I _held it!" Mokuba cried defiantly, directing the declaration at no one in particular. "It didn't...it didn't...oh, no...Niisama..."

"Don't worry, kid," Noa said softly, offhandedly, as if only making the attempt to comfort his brother out of mechanical habit. "Don't worry. You just...sit here and watch him. I'm going...out."

Noa wrenched open the front door, slipped through, and kicked it shut.

Mokuba thought it sounded like the lid of a coffin.

* * *

Seto opened his eyes and winced at the searing pain in his head.

An idle thought crossed his mind, and he wondered what the _hell _he'd been doing trying to grab hold of lightning, when he realized he wasn't in his parlor anymore.

Looking up and glancing around, he realized he wasn't _anywhere._

For some reason, though, even though there was nothing here that could even make a passing attempt at a landmark, these surroundings felt familiar.

The ground he stood on was there...and yet _not _there, a sort of halfway-translucent gray that seemed only to exist because he couldn't comprehend the idea that it didn't. As if his mind were projecting a self-made mirage onto itself.

The sky was an endless blanket of blackened storm clouds, with streaks of lightning (go figure) far off on the horizon like the bars of some cosmic prison cell, almost blinding him.

And with that lightning came a voice.

A deep, echoing, _angry _voice.

_**Malik Ishtar, I swear by every god in existence if you attempt to summon me **_**one **_**more time, I...**_

The threat ended as suddenly as it began, and Seto blinked. He realized what was happening, where he was. And as soon as he did, he stopped thinking. Stopped trying to understand. There was some degree of relief, and he even cracked a ghost of his usual smirk.

He sighed deeply and sat down.

He was hallucinating.

* * *

When the figure appeared in front of him, Seto leaned his face into a cupped hand, sighing again as he wondered just how long this bout of insanity would last.

"If you could...leave now," he said, clearly not paying attention, "so that I can wake up and get back to work, that would be nice. I don't have much free time as a general rule, and I don't like spending it dreaming if I can help it."

The figure's face was almost a mirror image of his own, in physical resemblance _and _facial expression.

_**Do you know where you are?**_

"Well, I'm going to take a stab in the dark and say..._on my couch. _I don't know what game Ishtar decided to play with me, but it's not exactly entertaining."

_**...Ishtar. So he **_**did **_**listen. I'm surprised.**_

"Yay. Me, too. We have something in common. Go away, now."

_**Do you have any idea who I am, young one?**_

"You could be Ryan Seacrest for all I care. You don't exist."

The figure, as translucent as the ground he stood on, was dressed in archaic blue robes with no sleeves. A golden circlet, a dragon with glinting blue sapphire eyes, set upon his reddish brown hair. An ankh fashioned of silver and gold lay against his chest, held there by a gleaming chain around his neck.

He crossed his arms (causing the jewelry on his wrists to jingle) and smirked.

That smirk was creepily familiar.

_**I am you, Seto.**_

* * *

**IV:**

** Leading the Horse to Water**

* * *

"He's coming."

Malik stopped walking and slipped his hands out of his pockets. He didn't have to ask who his sister was talking about. "I figured he would."

Isis nodded.

The pair watched as an immaculate silver Corvette skidded to a halt near them, and weren't surprised to see the green-haired twin of Seto Kaiba step out.

Noa made no pretense of sociability.

"You got five seconds, asshole."

"He took hold of it, didn't he?" Malik asked instead of responding, his tone light and jovial.

"Wow; you're intuitive. What the _hell _happened to him?!"

"And here I thought there was only _one _person who actually cared about Seto Kaiba," Malik remarked, chuckling.

Noa clearly didn't share in the joke.

"You're right. I care about Seto just about as much as he cares about me, which ain't saying much. But Mokuba's scared out of his frickin' mind, and _that _you're gonna answer for. Now 'fess up before civil time runs out."

Isis held up a hand. "Don't worry. He's fine. What happened to him is likely a result of the spirit within the rod."

"The...spirit. Right. Oh, _this _is gonna be fun. So, now I'm supposed to believe _more _of this magical fairy crap. All right; sake of argument, let's say I believe your bedtime story. When's he gonna wake up?"

"That is up to the spirit," Malik said. "He should have realized his mistake almost instantly. The reason he induced...well, a coma, I suppose you could call it...is because he thought _I _was summoning him. He is quite...irritated with me at the moment."

"Right. So the genie in the lamp is pissed that you slept with his mother, so now my brother's in a coma. Sounds perfectly logical to me."

Malik smirked. "Mock me if you will. It's the truth. He won't be released until the spirit decides he should be released. He'll be fine. I'm sure they will...see eye to eye eventually."

Noa scowled murderously. "...Don't get too comfortable, jack-off. If..._when _it turns out you're lying to me, you're gonna find out just why people were scared of my father."

* * *

"You're..._me."_

_**Indeed.**_

Seto stood up - staring at the barely-there figure who did, admittedly, bear a striking resemblance to himself - and barked a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You're one hell of a concussion," he said as he swept a hand through his hair.

_**I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by this reaction,**_ the man's voice remarked, although his lips didn't move. _**I, myself, refused to believe much of what I now know for a fair amount of time. You will come to understand the truth of this, youngling.**_

"...Youngling. Oh, you're fun. Okay, _oldling, _why am I here?"

_**You are here because I grew tired of allowing Malik Ishtar access to what is not his. The power I – and the rod you now hold – possess is not his to command.**_

Seto rolled his eyes. "The power you possess. This just gets more and more interesting as it goes on. Do tell, Powerful One. I'm _immensely _intrigued."

_**Surely you have seen the magic of the rod at work**__, _the spirit said**. **_**I know you have dealt with Malik Ishtar in the past, in the modern iteration of the ancient games...that power came from me.**_

"Right. Of course it did. And where is this power now? Since you have _grown tired _of allowing Ishtar to use it?"

_**Where it has always been, Seto Kaiba.**_

The spirit held out a hand and touched the fingertips to Seto's forehead.

_**Within you.**_

* * *

**V:**

** Snap Back to Reality...Or Not**

* * *

As soon as the spirit's fingers made contact with Seto's skin, a blinding flash of light that made the distant lightning seem dull and muted by comparison caused his headache to ignite, magnifying to the point that he thought his skull must have fractured.

And then it was gone.

Seto opened his eyes, and instead of a dark, dank no-man's land with a drama school drop-out in a dress, he saw Mokuba. From the look on the boy's face, Seto could only assume that he had been unconscious.

Of course he'd been.

"Niisama!" Mokuba wailed, and threw himself on top of his brother. "You were cold! You weren't breathing! I thought...I thought...!"

"Shhh..." Seto whispered immediately, forgetting for a moment what had just happened. He patted his brother's back, a gesture of affection that should have seemed off-kilter from him, but didn't. "I'm all right, Mokuba. Don't worry."

Mokuba kept crying, hugging his brother like he never intended to let go, and Seto wondered just how bad he had looked. Mokuba was a tough kid; he wasn't prone to this sort of hysteria.

_Had_ he been...?

No. Of course not.

But...maybe...

Seto looked over at his free hand to see he still clutched the Millennium Rod in a tight, unyielding fist. There was something intimately familiar about it now, like a long-lost treasure. Something he had owned once and lost.

The complete inanity of such a thought only caused his confusion to compound upon itself, because the feeling was undeniable. He felt as connected to this device now as he did to the locket he wore around his neck, tucked under his shirt. The locket Mokuba had given him as a birthday gift; the locket that held one of the only pictures he had of Mokuba when they'd lived at the Domino Children's Home, years before.

"I'm so sorry, Niisama!" Mokuba cried. "I didn't know it would hurt you! Honest! I thought...I just thought...oh, God, I..."

"I'm all right," Seto said again. "Don't worry about it, Mokuba. You couldn't have known. It wasn't your fault. Sh-sh-sh. Come on, now. No more crying."

Mokuba managed to stifle his cries at least a little. Enough to speak.

"N-Noa went to find...to find...someone."

"Ishtar," Seto murmured distractedly, loosening his grip on the rod and twirling it in his hand. "He must have gone to find Ishtar. They brought this to me..."

"Do you...?" Mokuba began, clearly not comforted by the thought of the Egyptian tomb-keeper, "...Do you think that...that he wanted to...to...?"

Seto didn't answer.

"He gave it up..." he whispered instead, in a tone of near-awe. His surprise, his confounding confusion, at that notion wasn't his own. It couldn't be.

"Huh? What do you mean? What are you talking about, Niisama?"

"He...let it go. Because...because it was destined to be mine..."

His thoughts ground to a screeching halt.

_Destined?!_

He didn't believe in destiny any more than Mokuba still believed in the _Easter Bunny! _The entire idea was an insult to his intelligence! And yet...

His brow furrowed.

Something wasn't right...

He felt a compulsion.

He twirled the rod so that he was looking at the Eye of Horus in between the two golden blades of the head. He focused on it, bent his concentration on it.

He felt a pulse, the mental equivalent of flexing a muscle, and the rod began to glow.

Mokuba stared. "How...how did you do that?"

Seto frowned. "I...don't know. I..._do _know."

"Huh?"

"...I suppose I'll have to teach you, youngling."

Seto jumped, a breach of self-control so off-balancing that it hurt, and whirled to face the speaker.

It was...it was...

The archaic figure from no-man's land stood in the middle of the room, fully realized and vibrant and _there, _with his arms crossed over his chest and that all-too familiar smirk on his face.

"...N-Nii...sama...?" Mokuba whispered, awestruck.

Seto didn't answer.

Mokuba hadn't been talking to him.

The man bowed his head.

"Good afternoon," he said, and this time his lips _did _move. He seemed to be directing this greeting to both of them.

"My name is Sethos Yameth. I am your ancestor."

* * *

**_I've decided to call the Shadow Realm "no-man's land" because I just..._really_ don't like "Shadow Realm." It's played out. I've heard it too much. I've tried to refer to it as that as minimally as possible. _**

**_Also, I know that Seto's Egyptian ancestor shares his name. I just thought that was boring. So I changed it to "Sethos." It sounds more ancient that way. More...mysterious. Originally, in "Paradoxical Parenthood," from which I am borrowing much of this opening arc, his name was Sephiroth. That, however, is a name I can now only associate with the oh, so infamous villain of Final Fantasy VII. So, Sethos it is._**

**_'Til next time, all. Thanks for joining me._**


	4. Reincarnation of Power

_**So I took a long time to get this up, and I guess it shouldn't be too surprising considering my track record. Seems I suck at this. Well, I tried to make up for it by giving you a bit more than I intended to originally. Hopefully it helps. So, I think we'll just get right on to business. Here it is, peoples. The next five sections of "Shifting Images":**_

* * *

**VI: **

**Reincarnation of Power  
**

* * *

"I'm sure your threats are genuine," Malik said idly, his face showing nothing in the way of sincerity. "I don't take them lightly, and I understand your anger. But I'm not worried. The spirit of the rod will accept your brother."

Noa snorted. "Right. I bet."

"Go back home, Kaiba. You'll understand."

"I'll go home when I damn well decide to."

"I'm sure young Mokuba is quite upset, if the spirit has induced what I believe he has. Seto is fine, but he won't look it. So you might want to go back."

Noa growled irritably and whirled on his heel, stalking back toward his (brother's) car. Turning back as he opened the door, he said, "I may sound like a mob-movie cliché, but that's usually what happens when you're pissed off. But you oughtta know something...I _am _a mob-movie cliché."

Malik held a hand up. "Good to know, _Oyabun_. I'll keep it in mind."

"Tch. S'right."

Noa slammed the door shut and sped off.

Isis crossed her arms. "I doubt it's a good idea to act so...belligerent with them, Brother. Would you kick a rabid dog?"

Malik shrugged his shoulders and continued walking.

"Maybe...if I was bored."

* * *

"A...Ancestor?"

"Indeed."

Mokuba alternated between looking at his brother and the stranger in the middle of the room. They were even closer cosmetically than Seto and Noa, and held themselves in such an eerily similar way that he seemed to be looking for the mirror.

This man who called himself Sethos stood easily, confidently, waiting for Seto to answer with seemingly no intention of ever moving again. His eyes were sharp, bright, and blue like Seto's, although a much lighter shade.

His clothing was certainly archaic, obviously Egyptian, and there was just something...ancient about him. Despite looking about as young as his counterpart, he had an aura of age and experience about him. He didn't wear a costume; his clothing was natural on him. It looked _right._

Sethos turned finally, eyes gliding toward the door just as it opened and Noa stalked inside. The green-haired Kaiba didn't look at him, didn't even seem to notice him; his eyes went straight to Seto.

"Huh. Awake already, huh?"

"I see you're bursting with joy, Noa," Seto muttered.

"Oh, aren't I?"

"And where did _you _go?"

"Went 'n found the nut-jobs who gave you that thing. Said somethin' about spirits or whatever. 'The spirit of the rod will accept your brother.' Bunch o' crap."

Noa shook his head. "I just don't get people sometimes. S'like we're surrounded by retards. I mean, I try not to get as butt-hurt as _you _about 'em, but...still. Jeez."

"I'd agree with you," Seto muttered, "if I weren't currently doubting my sanity."

"Huh?"

"Uh...Noa," Mokuba said tentatively. "I know you don't believe in all of that stuff Yugi and everybody talks about, but...uh..."

"But what? Oh, crap. You've been taken in by it, haven't you, kid? Yugi's brainwashed you. Am I gonna have to extract part of your brain now? I don't wanna do that; I'd have to cut your hair. Then you wouldn't be Mokuba no more."

"Perhaps they have a reason for doubting their certainty," Sethos said finally, and Noa's head snapped up.

"Who the holy...!"

"Sethos," Seto muttered. "Sethos Yameth."

"I am the...spirit of the rod, as you called me," Sethos said. "Your stepbrother's ancestor."

"Sorry, Noa," Mokuba said with a slight smile. "Looks like Malik was right."

* * *

**VII: **

**All Hail the King  
**

* * *

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Noa groaned, slapping a hand over his face. "This is the last damn thing I need! Halloween was three months ago, reject. Joke's over."

"Well, _you're_ pleasant," Sethos murmured thoughtfully.

"No speaking," Noa snapped. "You're either a trespasser or a mental miscalculation. Either way, you don't matter."

Sethos raised an eyebrow. "If I do not matter, then why is it a concern of yours that I am standing here?"

"I—" Noa started, only to realize he had nothing to say. "...Damn."

"I understand that you all disbelieve in my existence right now," Sethos said as he turned to Seto again. "Well...except perhaps the little one." He glanced at Mokuba and smiled.

"Forgive me," Seto said with a complete absence of earnestness, "but I'll go on believing I'm still unconscious, if it's all the same to you."

"Consciousness has a particular clarity that disallows such a practice, Seto. It would do well for you to admit I stand here, if only for your own sake."

"How...how can this...?" Mokuba tried to ask, clearly still confused out of his mind but not as...hostile about it as his brothers. "You...look just like Niisama!"

"Surely you have had dealings with a young man named...Motou? Yes?"

Seto nodded, seeming not to want to. "...Yugi."

"And have you not noticed that he keeps on his person an artifact similar to the one you now hold?"

"Yes." Seto nodded again. "The Millennium Puzzle, he calls it."

"And have you not noticed, on occasion, that Yugi Motou seems to...shift? Change?"

Seto frowned. Thought reluctant, he eventually nodded a third time. "Yes. I have."

"Me, too," Mokuba put in.

"...Sorta," Noa admitted.

"That is the spirit of the puzzle: Atem-Ra, the most prominent pharaoh of what you call our Fourth Dynasty."

"Atem-Ra," Seto murmured. "Motou calls him 'Yami.' Everyone else calls him '_yuugiou_,' the king of games."

"Always a king, my Atem," Sethos said with a slight chuckle. "So, you understand. Likely you do not believe what you understand, but you do. Atem resides within young Yugi's puzzle...more effectively, he resides within Yugi himself."

"I...see."

"Through Malik Ishtar, I have learned much of what has transpired in recent years regarding Yugi Motou and yourself. It seems his sister, Isis, has relayed to you...faulty information."

"Oh?"

"She has said that you and the pharaoh were, and are, destined to do battle, to repeat the annals of our history. That is...not quite correct."

Sethos took a deep breath and turned around, glancing around himself and taking in his surroundings.

"You have been doing battle with Atem-Ra himself, not his successor – that is to say, Yugi. Destiny as Miss Ishtar has laid it out has not come to pass. Atem's awakening, Thirak's awakening – I believe you know him as Ryou Bakura – and my awakening disrupts the flow of time as Isis Ishtar sees it."

"Is that so...? And this means _what _to me?"

"You, Seto Kaiba, are not destined to fall into such conflict. That it has happened is little more than oversight. Rather, you are to accomplish what I, myself, could not. What I was not given proper time to accomplish. What Malik Ishtar attempted and failed."

"And..._that _is?"

"You are to be Atem-Ra's successor. You, Seto Kaiba, will take on the mantle of the pharaoh."

* * *

**VIII: **

**He Who Reigns Supreme  
**

* * *

"..._What?!"_

Sethos glanced over his shoulder at Noa's blank, dumbstruck face and frowned. "Atem-Ra's reign as king has ended," he said slowly. "It is now time for a successor to the throne to be chosen."

"Who says it's over? Why's it over? Why's Yami king of _anything, _and why the holy _hell _is _he _of all people taking his place?!"

"Noa," Seto interjected, voice sharp and authoritative. "Calm down. You're being hysterical."

"Yeah?!" Noa whirled on his brother. "Maybe I _am! _Maybe the fact that you were goddamn _dead _for at _least _fifteen minutes today kinda has me _on edge!"_

"Why, Noa..." Seto said with faux emotion, "were you worried about me? How touching."

"Screw you! It's a bit _off-putting _to have a damn _corpse _in your house, y'know! Much less havin' it come _back! _All this high-hung numb-_fuck _magic crap's just a bit too much for me, a'right?!"

"Noa, that's enough," Seto said sharply. "Your screaming is misplaced and irritating. You used to speak far more intelligently than this, even when angry. Clearly you've been spending far too much time with Wheeler. I'm not dead, nor _was _I, despite what you think."

"Actually, Seto," Sethos cut in, "you _did _pass from this world for a time."

Seto's eyes shot to his ancestor. "...Pardon me?"

"The place your associates have called the Shadow Realm, the place you thought of as 'no-man's land,' lies in the realm of the dead. The only manner by which one can enter it is through shedding their corporeal form. Dying."

Seto's perpetual scowl deepened. "You're telling me that you killed me."

"Yet you remain. The power locked within the rod you carry is great, my successor. Many times Malik Ishtar used it in the same manner to consult with the dead."

"So...this rod," Seto said, lifting the article in question, "can revive the dead. It can kill. Apparently it can summon you. And if Malik Ishtar is to be believed, it can control people."

"Indeed."

"What _else _is it capable of?"

"That, successor, is determined by you. It is your will that exercises the gifts of the rod. None but the Chosen may know all that it is capable of. Not even I."

"The Chosen."

"The next of the pharaoh's line. You."

"Right. You said that already."

"It's like you're saying Niisama is some sort of..._god_ or something," Mokuba said. "All this stuff about power and pharaohs."

"If he embraces his calling," Sethos said, "your brother will be near to just that. The legend of the Millennium Items states supreme power shall be granted to he who claims them all. Such is the truth. It is to be your responsibility, Seto, to gather and claim each of the seven items."

"I see..." Seto twirled the rod in his hand, studying it. His eyes were clouded, distracted, far away. "Supreme power...pharaoh...a god..."

"Indeed," Sethos said, nodding. "It is your calling. _That _is your destiny. That is where your path has led. Where all else have failed, you will succeed. You will climb to the throne. The power will be yours."

"Power..." Seto repeated.

"Do you understand what I have told you, Seto?" Sethos asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "Do you understand the implications of what I have laid before you? Do you believe?"

Seto stared at the rod in his hand for a long moment before he looked up again.

"Of course not."

* * *

**IX:**

** Reality Check  
**

* * *

"'Atta boy, Aniki!" Noa said with a laugh, clearly feeling better now that someone else was taking his side.

Sethos was not surprised by Seto's proclamation. His face remained casual, passive, almost uninterested. "I expected as much," he said. "You will see in time, successor, the truth of your potential."

"I know my potential, Sethos Yameth," Seto said. "What I do not know is why I should believe anything you are telling me. That you are even here goes against everything I have ever learned, have ever observed, and I thus am forced to question the legitimacy of it."

"I can tell you nothing you do not already know, successor. That you refuse to admit to yourself that knowledge is hardly my concern or responsibility."

"Then why are you even here?"

"Because I choose to be."

"You aren't welcome here."

"You have yet to harness the ability to remove me."

"That a threat?" Noa asked dangerously.

"But you _do _have a volatile temperament," Sethos said as he looked at Noa, a scrutinizing expression on his face. "I am not entirely certain what it is you think to prove, but it is no concern of mine."

"How 'bout I _make _it a—"

"Enough with the mafia boss act, Noa," Seto said, rubbing his temples. "Your body is hardly in the proper condition to back up any of your threats."

"Yeah, never mind the fact I didn't even _have _a body not too long ago and _still _outfoxed you."

"I'd shut up about that if I were you, Noa," Seto said dangerously. "Keep well in mind that you owe me, and if I decide to collect on that, you probably wouldn't like it."

"Stop it, you guys," Mokuba said in a tone not unlike that of an admonishing parent.

Surprisingly enough, both backed down.

Sethos chuckled. "I see the true holder of power in this house has opted to show himself."

Mokuba smiled and winked.

"Yeah, yeah...laugh it up, kid," Noa muttered.

"I think maybe we should talk to Yugi about this," Mokuba said. "He knows a lot about all this stuff. He's studied it."

"It would do me quite well to see Atem again," Sethos murmured. "He is likely to be quite surprised to see me."

"Great," Noa groaned, rolling his eyes. "Just what I need. More Egyptian religious psycho-crap."

"Knock it off," Mokuba said, and there was a bit of pleading in his voice now. "No one believes your tough guy routine, Noa. We all know you like kittens and rainbows."

"Hey! Don't you bring kittens into this. And rainbows are...soothing."

"Uh-huh."

Though clearly still irritated, Noa visibly calmed down. He drew in a deep breath, shook his head, and nodded at Mokuba in what was probably meant to be an apology.

Mokuba smiled at Noa, stood up and approached the spirit of the rod. Reaching out somewhat gingerly, he touched the fabric of Sethos's robe.

"Yes, little one," Sethos said with a smile. "I am real."

Mokuba shrugged. "Gotta be sure."

Seto sighed. "Fine...we'll convince Yugi that I've lost what sanity I had left. Not like I had anything better to do."

He glared irritably at his laptop and shook his head as he stood up.

"Uh...before we go," Mokuba said, looking up at Sethos. "Noa was right."

"Pardon?"

Mokuba chuckled and picked at the spirit's robe again.

"You should probably find something else to wear."

* * *

**X:**

**Fashion Sense of the Ancients  
**

* * *

It came as no real surprise that Seto Kaiba owned an obscenely large collection of suits. While he occasionally still wore his more recognizable trench coats in public for the added dramatic flair, more often than not he dressed for business.

Mokuba – who _everyone _went to for fashion advice, of course – decided that Sethos looked best in jet-black, offset by a deep purple shirt.

The ancient spirit-turned-human-again seemed obviously uncomfortable in the outfit, picking at it and shifting his weight and smoothing it out.

Seto was putting on a black tie over his own navy blue shirt, flipping through the motions of it with practiced ease. Sethos watched him closely and, when he picked up a tie of his own, emulated the series of steps flawlessly, causing Mokuba to stare.

"How did you...?"

Sethos shrugged. "I learn quickly, little one."

"My name's Mokuba, y'know," the boy offered.

Sethos nodded. "I know. Quite well."

"Oh."

As Seto slipped on his jacket and buttoned it, he grunted dismissively. "Are you ready? Let's get this over with. I hardly want to be around Yugi and his band of idiots any longer than necessary."

"No one said this was necessary, Aniki," Noa put in. "You can stay home if ya want."

"Ngh," was Seto's only reply as he walked out of the room.

Noa looked the spirit up and down, apparently deciding he was going to take this latest hallucination at face value for a while. "I can tell ya don't like it much, but it fits you well. Guess it's no surprise. Aniki 'n me look good in suits; figures you would, too."

Mokuba nodded, a smile of slight smugness on his face (after all, he had picked it out). "Yeah. I think you could go to Niisama's work and nobody would notice."

Noa chuckled. "Yeah, prob'ly. So what's the deal with that, anyway? He your reincarnation or some crap?"

"Yes. Seto would be my next incarnation."

"Jus' like Yugi's the reincarnation of...Ate-who's-it. Right."

It was obvious that Noa still didn't buy into the theory, but Sethos ignored that. Glancing down at himself with one last frown, he finally shrugged and walked out of the room.

* * *

Glancing back at the house as they left toward the limousine, Sethos studied it for a moment.

"I would say it is...safe to assume not all people of your era live in such splendor."

"No," Seto said. "Not by a long shot."

"Aniki's the richest bastard in the hemisphere," Noa added. "Far's your pharaoh scheme's concerned, he's halfway there already."

"Niisama works hard for his money," Mokuba put in, apparently upset with Noa's all-too-casual assessment of Seto's financial security. "He's earned all this."

"I'm sure he has," Sethos said quickly, before Noa could make a sarcastic quip about just _how _Seto had earned his money. There was something about the sharpness of the spirit's eyes as they darted in Noa's direction that stopped him short before making the comment anyway.

As the four climbed into the limo, Seto reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone, right thumb gliding over the keys with the efficiency of long-time use.

"Always workin'," Noa muttered. "I, uh...don't fault hard work, don't get me wrong, but I think you need a vacation, Aniki. You need to get laid. Seriously."

Seto snorted. "You're one to talk."

"Hey, you don't think I learned how to pull a few tricks in my little digital sandbox?"

_That _caught Seto's attention, and his face showed clearly his disgust. "Little ears, you idiot."

"Oh, he's _twelve," _Noa shot back. "Lighten up, _Mom. _He's bound to know about this kinda junk by now. Ain't that right, kiddo?"

Mokuba blinked. "Uh...sure. Right. Whatever."

Seto rolled his eyes. "Of course_."_

"That hardly makes _your _sexual escapades enjoyable conversation," Sethos said. "Narcissism is a trait that is...unfavorable in the best of men."

"And you," Seto added, "are not the best of men."

"Oh, like _you _have any place to talk. You saying you _are?"_

"Yes," both said in unison. "We are."

* * *

_**You may have noticed that this story moves rather quickly. There's a reason for that: it was written quickly. The five sections you just read; I wrote 8 of them, this length or longer, each day for two months. So there isn't quite as much development and pacing in this one than I usually put in. I couldn't afford to take time to think through this. But I still hope you enjoy it; just make sure to treat it lightly, if you can. 'Til next time, all.**_


	5. Family Reunion

**_This section, I think, shows partly just how quickly this plot formulated in my head. Things move at a pretty fast clip in this world, folks. The fun starts here, when Sethos Yameth shows his true colors. _**

* * *

**XI:**

**Family Reunion  
**

* * *

Seto was the first out of the limo when they arrived.

Sethos was right behind him. When Noa and Mokuba got out, the driver nodded, Mokuba smiled and waved, and the vehicle left back toward the Kaiba Estate.

Sethos took in the building in front of them with an unreadable expression. Noting Solomon Motou sweeping the porch, he frowned curiously.

"Siamun..." he murmured, mostly to himself.

"Reco'nize him?" Noa asked.

"Indeed...Atem's vizier."

"Yugi's grandfather," Seto pointed out.

"Fitting."

The four approached the front of the shop, Sethos leading now. There was something akin to excitement on his face now, and Seto eyed him with narrowed eyes.

Solomon glanced up, a grin of greeting on his lips, and blinked. Confusion crossed his weathered face as his gaze alternated between Seto and his ancestor. "...Hello," he finally offered, somewhat reluctantly.

Sethos inclined his head. "A fair afternoon to you, sir."

"What's up?" Noa offered.

"Hi, Mister Motou," Mokuba said with a grin.

Seto, to no one's surprise, remained silent. He did, however, nod his head the slightest bit in the elderly man's general direction, which Solomon took to mean a friendly greeting. In Seto's case, it pretty much was.

"Are you a relative of the Kaibas, then?" Solomon asked.

Sethos considered this for a moment. "...Yes. Somewhat distantly, but yes. Call me...Seth. A pleasure to meet you, sir."

Sethos held out a hand.

Solomon shook it with a sudden grin. "Solomon Motou. Nice to meet you, too, Seth."

"Well, isn't _someone _prim and proper today?" Noa noted.

"Unlike a certain pair of misanthropes I know, I do not consider rudeness an art form," Sethos replied with a serene, smug, condescending smile.

Solomon chuckled.

Sethos turned back to him. "Mister Motou, might Yugi be in? I had hoped to meet him."

"Oh, yes. He's inside. Come, come, go right inside. And don't hesitate if you see anything you like."

Sethos bowed his head again. "Thank you, sir."

"Of course."

They stepped inside the shop, leaving Solomon to his cleaning.

* * *

Yugi was sitting at a round table with Joey Wheeler, Tristan Taylor, and Téa Gardner. He was apparently in the middle of leading a tabletop role-playing game.

"...step inside the next hallway, you see an abandoned altar, blanketed with years of dust and cobwebs and—Oh! Hey, Kaiba! Noa, Mokuba. How are you doing?"

Seto grunted noncommittally. Noa tipped an invisible hat, and Mokuba waved. The others at the table greeted Noa and Mokuba, pointedly ignoring Seto.

Seto glanced at his watch and pulled out his phone again, entirely unaffected by the lack of attention.

"Wanna join in, Moku-man?" Joey asked. "Ain't been 'ere for a while. Betcher assassin's swords're gettin' rusty."

"Maybe later. But, uh...someone else is here to see you, Yugi."

"Huh?" Yugi looked up.

Sethos stood behind the other three, who parted to let him step forward. Well, Noa and Mokuba parted. Seto was no longer paying attention. A flash of recognition visited Yugi's eyes, but left almost immediately.

"Uh...hi. I'm Yugi Motou. Nice to meet you."

"Sethos Yameth," Sethos greeted. "A pleasure to meet you, as well, Yugi. Tell me...is _he _nearby?_"_

He gestured to the puzzle around Yugi's neck.

"Oh," Yugi said, looking down. "I...think Yami recognizes you," he murmured. "He wants to make sure. Uh...hold on a second."

A slight flash of light from the puzzle's eye, and Yugi, as Sethos had put it, shifted. His face grew leaner, more angular, his eyes changing from violet to the deep, bloody hue of red wine. The unkempt, clumpy spikes of his hair seemed to sharpen, lending him a wild, feral appearance.

When he looked up again, the recognition that had flashed in Yugi's eyes were burning. He spoke, his voice far deeper and older than his counterpart's.

"I...never thought I'd see you again," he murmured softly, contemplatively.

Sethos chuckled.

"A pleasure to see you again, as well, Cousin."

* * *

**XII:**

**Enter King of Thieves  
**

* * *

The ring was burning.

Bright, visceral eyes gleamed down at the golden artifact as it shimmered into view, hanging from his neck like a malignant, white-hot talisman.

Two of the ring's many spikes were glowing, pulled as if by gravitation toward the nondescript, humble place of business where the proclaimed "king of games" made his home.

He had been waiting...waiting so long...their guard was down. Now, when two lay in the same place. Now was his chance. Now, before any distractions.

Now that the Millennium Rod was no longer in the hands of..._him._

The body of Ryou Bakura, controlled by a mind not his own, drew a long-bladed knife from beneath his shirt, a glinting white grin spreading on his face, distorting those docile, quiet features into something...wrong.

He walked forward.

* * *

"_Cousin?!"_

The chorus of voices made Yami flinch. They stared at Sethos as if he had just proclaimed himself an alien emissary from Saturn.

"Indeed," Sethos put in. "Did you not know this about Atem?"

"Atem?" Téa asked. "His name's Yami."

"Incorrect. His _alias_ may be Yami. His _name_ is Atem. I see you are confused, Cousin. Have you forgotten this?"

A sheepish expression on his face, Yami nodded. "I...remember next to nothing about that time, I'm afraid."

"I see."

"I recognize you," he said quickly, almost defensively. "I know your face. I know you are from my past."

"It is no surprise that you would."

"So...wait," Joey said. "You sayin' Kaiba used t' be Yug's family? That's...kinda screwed up, man."

"I apologize," Sethos snapped, sudden anger flaring in his iceberg eyes. "I meant not to _offend_ you. Allow me to remedy the situation. Do allow me to borrow your Time Wizard, then? I shall head back home and murder my father, that I may not be born to _sully _the king's blood."

Joey flinched, clearly having meant the comment as a simple jibe at Seto and nothing so clearly offensive. "Uh...I didn't...I mean...I wasn't tryna say...never mind."

"Wise decision," Sethos muttered, turning his gaze away and crossing his arms.

Yami raised an eyebrow. "...How is it that you have returned?"

"Much like you, Cousin, I was bound to a Millennium Item. Upon contact with my chosen successor, I was reborn."

Seto removed the Millennium Rod from an inner pocket of his jacket and held it up. "Ishtar gave this to me earlier today. It has apparently caused some degree of brain damage."

"So...you are connected to Kaiba, then?" Yami asked.

"Indeed. As you, Cousin, are connected to young Yugi."

"But you...have a body."

"As could you, if you could but remember the proper utilization of your item's power. Our bodies were sacrificed to the items to seal their power. And it is through them that we may regain them."

Yami frowned. "I see. So...the secret lies in my memories. Like everything else."

"How come you remember everything about yourself, Sethos?" Mokuba asked. "Yami can't remember anything. He didn't even know his name 'til now. What's different?"

"I cannot say for certain. The power of the pharaohs is much a mystery to me. I know precious little about the abilities harnessed by He Who Commands, as Atem was close to becoming. As I have said, little one, the possessor of the seven items is granted supreme power. It was a fraction of this power Atem used, sacrificing himself and six others – including myself and Thirak, the self-proclaimed king of thieves who instigated that final conflict – to conclude the War of Ends, that which would have consumed us all."

"Thirak?" Yami repeated.

"Indeed. You all would know him as...Ryou Bakura, I believe."

"Bakura?!" Joey, Tristan, and Téa all cried at once.

"Bakura? A thief?"

"Seriously?"

"_He _almost ended the world?!"

"In his mad race for power, Thirak defaced and disgraced us all, and came very close to overpowering us. Had he succeeded, it would be he who possesses the power of the items. As near to an apocalypse as I have ever witnessed."

Sethos heard the gasp and flinched ever so slightly, and he turned in unison with the others to the source:

Mokuba.

Ryou Bakura, as manic a grin as any of them had ever seen on his face, held a knife to the boy's throat, pushing against his flesh hard enough to draw blood.

"...Did someone mention my name...?"

* * *

**XIII:**

**Ambush  
**

* * *

Seto was the first to react, surprise giving way to white-hot fury.

"You have two _god_damn seconds to let him go, you son of a bitch!" he hissed, eyes blazing with fire. "What the holy _hell _do you think you're doing?!"

Bakura chuckled. "Of _course _I'll let him go, Kaiba...if you'll but do me a favor in exchange..."

"_Fuck _your favors!" Noa snarled.

"Bakura!" Téa cried. "What are you doing?!"

"It's the spirit of the ring..." Yami whispered. "Bakura! Thirak! That's enough! Whatever you want, leave the child out of it!"

Bakura barked a laugh. "You're hardly in a position to order me anything, my _king..._"

"Thirak..."

It was like a quiet bolt of thunder. Like the soft, sudden rumbling of a volcanic eruption: the precursor to disaster. All eyes shifted to Sethos at the sound of his voice, and even Seto, enraged as he was, blinked in surprise.

The spirit of the rod was stone-stiff, fists clenched at his sides, his icy blue eyes flaring with visceral, crackling intensity. His voice, a warbling, unsteady hiss, was stained with nearly psychotic rage.

"...You would do well..." the spirit continued, "...to step away..."

"I don't know or _care_ who you are," Bakura remarked, attempting to maintain a boastful air but unable to. "I am not here to negotiate. I will leave when I have what I want."

"You know well...the doctrines of the Old Gods..." Sethos replied, fists clenching even tighter, blood beginning to drip from the cuts made by his fingernails.

Bakura smiled cruelly. "A Millennium Item must be won...I see. So you desire a contest, then? Very well."

"Hold it," Seto snapped, stepping forward. He glared at Sethos. "This is none of your concern. _I _will—"

"Be silent and step away!" Sethos commanded, snapping his head to the side. Seto flinched, unused to such confrontation, and scowled.

"I'll not be treat—"

"Do you want your child to _live _or do you want to die _with_ him?! You stand no chance in a contest with a creature of _this _sort! Now be gone with you!"

Bakura chuckled. "...Are you ready, then?"

"We both of us harness the strength of the ancients," Sethos said, voice steadying somewhat but no less furious for it. "A test of wills; this is contest at its core."

"...Fine. I hope you're prepared."

The ring hanging around Bakura's neck, the Millennium Ring, began to glow, and with that glow the very world around them seemed to melt.

* * *

Seto recognized where they all now stood.

No-man's land.

"If I am the victor," Bakura declared haughtily, voice echoing, "your Millennium Rod is mine. As well as your...life. Such as it is."

Sethos gave no reply.

"Shall we begin, then?"

Again, the spirit remained silent.

The knife pressed against Mokuba's throat again. "Remember...this contest is mandatory. I care no more for this boy than any other. Do you accept?"

Sethos's eyes narrowed to slits.

"...We begin."

Bakura's crazed grin widened.

Immediately, Seto felt nauseous. The dark, storm-shrouded night darkened further, stifling him, closing in on him, trying to strangle him.

The dark itself seemed to be moving at Bakura's – Thirak's – beckoning, honing in on Sethos like a predator on the hunt. Both combatants remained standing stone-still, with Mokuba between them like an impromptu referee, struggling to breathe against the pressure put on him both by the knife at his neck and the sudden lack of air caused by the suffocating night.

Thirak chuckled menacingly. "You have signed your own death warrant. You should have staked your life on a traditional game...you may have had a chance."

Sethos remained silent.

He didn't move.

He slowly, so slowly, lifted his head.

"...This ends now."

* * *

**XIV:**

**Dethroned  
**

* * *

As soon as the words left his lips, Sethos's eyes exploded with bright yellow fire, engulfing his body and spreading like ever-growing snakes twisting and undulated around him.

_**You had your chance, **_Sethos's voice thundered, disembodied and terrible. The flaming cyclone of light around the spirit began to condense, growing ever and ever brighter.

Seto wanted more than anything in the world to close his eyes against the blinding, killing brightness, but couldn't. He felt his body being pulled toward Sethos, as if the man were a black hole, drawing in the whole of existence.

Thirak stumbled, sweat breaking on his brow, shaking and gasping as he realized his mistake.

The king of thieves opened his mouth to scream, but no sound escaped; no sound survived the onslaught of Sethos's rage. Thirak fell to his knees, blood seeping from his eyes, from his nose, from his ears, from every pore.

And then...

_**THIS WORLD WILL BE YOUR GRAVE!!**_

For the span of a blink, all was still, all was silent...

...And then, existence itself exploded.

Sethos became the nexus of a flaming, bloody supernova, and Seto was sure he was about to die. He had no time to think before the seething wall of energy crashed through him, and it took several, agonizingly long moments for him to realize that he was still alive.

Thirak's scream finally loosed itself, tearing out of his throat, a bone-shattering screech that was the raw material of every nightmare.

Seto, who had seen far more horror than he ever should have at his young age, was shaken to his core at the level of carnage Sethos had visited upon the spirit of the Millennium Ring.

Thirak's entire body erupted into a waterfall of blood and blackened organs. His bones disintegrated and the ashes burst into flame.

The scream continued to echo in Seto's ears, nearly driving him to his knees. The aftershock of Sethos's overwhelming destruction was making his entire body shake.

He focused on his ancestor, forcing himself to see him, as the spirit walked slowly, methodically, toward all that remained of Thirak the thief king:

His charred skull.

"You should have known better...in life, you were so much more cautious..."

He passed Mokuba, shaking and crying and hugging himself, and sent one foot crashing down, sending splinters of blackened bone flying through the sterile air.

* * *

Like switching on a light in pure darkness, the sudden return of the interior of the Turtle Game Shop made Seto squint.

Sethos stood stolid in the center of the room, stone-still, face somber and contemplative. Ryou Bakura, no trace of Thirak's feral sadism in his soft, gentle face, kneeled before him.

"...It is done."

Mokuba scrambled and thrashed to his feet, still crying, and threw himself against his brother. "N-N-Niisamaaaaaa...!" he wailed, burying his face in Seto's coat.

Seto finally collapsed to his knees, hugging his brother close. "Shhhh...it's okay, Mokuba..." he whispered in a rasp. "It's okay...I've got you...shhh-sh-sh...Niisama's here..."

After a few moments of quietly soothing the black-haired boy's hysterical sobs, Seto turned a murderous glare on his ancestor.

"This is the second time today you've frightened my brother nearly to death," he snapped.

Sethos looked down at the boy with an expression that was clearly, honestly upset. His ice-colored eyes were soft and sorrowful.

"I..." he whispered shakily, "I am sorry, Menkaura. I meant not to...to..."

* * *


	6. Menkaura

_**I kind of cheated a bit, here. Tweaked things to my own liking simply because I can. And actually, come to think of it, a perfectly logical reason for my ability to do that will make itself known as the plot goes on. In any case, enjoy yourselves, Constant Readers (I think I stole that from Stephen King), and always remember that I love to hear what you think of things, good or bad. But if you do have criticism, do please keep in mind my rather restrictive time frame when it came to the crafting of this work. Not to say it's an excuse...just...you know. Keep it in mind.**_

* * *

**XV:**

**Menkaura  
**

* * *

"Men...Menkaura?" Mokuba asked, sniffling, turning to face the spirit. "Who...who's Menkaura?"

Sethos blinked, frowning as though confused at the question. He looked around himself, looking lost, before settling his gaze onto his own, upturned hands.

"Menkaura..." Yami repeated. "That's...that's _your _brother...isn't it, Sethos?"

The spirit took a long time in answering.

"...Yes."

"Your Mokuba," Noa said quietly, contemplatively.

Sethos nodded.

"Menkaura," Bakura murmured, settling into a sitting position and seeming to ignore what had just occurred for the sake of whatever shred of sanity he had left. "That name...it sounds familiar."

"It does..." Seto muttered. "I've heard that name before."

"It may be due to your connection to Sethos that you remember it," Yami offered.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Téa blurted. "Hold on! Before we start going in on Kaiba's family tree, could _someone _explain to me what just happened?"

"Yeah," Joey said, scratching his head. "Sum'n' ain't right, here."

"Seriously," Tristan added.

"What?" Yami asked.

"Well, one minute Bakura's going nutzoid and got a knife to Mokuba's throat," Tristan said, "and before we can blink, Bakura's on the ground and Mokuba's running at Kaiba like a frickin' track runner!"

"Yeah, what the hell?" Joey said. "S'like we skipped somethin' er...like a video wi' some film missin'. Just...blam!"

Téa nodded.

Yami blinked, confused. "You...didn't see that?"

"See _what?"_

Noa frowned. "You're...kidding, right? Seriously, you're kidding. How could you not see _that?!"_

"_What?!" _all three demanded at once.

"The man who called himself Thirak, the king of thieves..." Sethos said, "...no longer exists. The spirit of the Millennium Ring is dead."

* * *

**.  
**

* * *

Seto drowned out the sound of Gardner, Taylor, and Wheeler spouting off question after question; he drowned out the sound of Ryou Bakura's bleating repetitions of thanks as he realized that he was finally free from the Millennium Ring's malignant choke-hold.

He continued to keep a tight hold on his brother as Mokuba calmed down, mind whirling furiously as he struggled to reconcile not only what had just happened, but why and where from he knew the name Menkaura so well.

The name wasn't familiar in a personal sense, like Mokuba's was. He knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he had not known Menkaura personally. It was not as Yami had predicted. It couldn't be.

Seto Kaiba had an eidetic memory. He could recall nearly everything he had ever seen, read, or heard in a matter of moments. It was one of his most prominent skills, and a huge factor in his ability to maintain his career.

It should not have been so difficult to remember a simple name.

His mind was scrambled. It was like walking on a normal, straight sidewalk and blinking, only to find a labyrinth had replaced it.

Seto closed his eyes and bent his entire concentration on remembering the name. He focused on it, whispered it in his mind, mouthed it silently, brow furrowing in frustration.

Finally, after being still and silent long enough for Mokuba to ask him what was wrong, he had it. Like any number of things people struggled to remember, he felt a fool for not realizing it sooner.

He opened his eyes and looked at Sethos.

"I remember."

* * *

**XVI:**

**Line of Succession  
**

* * *

"What? What do you remember?" Sethos asked.

"Menkaura. Mycerinus in Latin. Mykerinos in Greek."

"...What?"

"He was pharaoh of Egypt during a period between 2532 BC to 2504 BC. It's unknown for certain. He ordered the construction of the smallest pyramid at Giza. His queen was Khamerernetby II; succeeded by Shepseskaf. One of the last pharaohs of the Fourth Dynasty."

Sethos blinked. "...Pharaoh?"

"His name...'Long last the vital forces of Ra.'"

All eyes were locked on him.

"Where...since when do_ you_ study Egyptian history?" Tristan asked, dumbfounded.

Seto didn't answer.

Sethos's eyes were wide and feverish. "You...you say that...my Menkaura took the throne?"

"Yes."

An expression of such euphoria passed over the spirit's face that Seto felt a smile tug at his own lips. He imagined Mokuba one day succeeding him as the owner of his company and the smile came full-force.

That was how Sethos must have felt...except multiplied over many, many times.

Yami, too, seemed pleased to hear this. He grinned widely.

"That's pretty cool..." Téa said.

"Yeah. Awesome." Joey grinned and flashed Mokuba a thumbs-up. "Hear that, kid? You were a king."

Mokuba finally pushed away from his brother and sat up straight. He looked around at the group, each of them looking at him, and fidgeted.

"Uh...I...that..."

Seto chuckled.

"Don't worry, kid," Noa put in. "Don't mean ya gotta get up 'n give a speech or something. Just...cool thought, huh? Your last incarnation was a pharaoh."

Mokuba smiled slightly at that and, upon looking back up at Seto, whose calm, affectionate smile showed his pride at the idea, grinned broadly.

"Hey..."

* * *

**.**

* * *

Bakura sat cross-legged on the floor, the Millennium Ring in both hands resting in his lap. He was studying it intensely, lifting it every so often and glancing up at Yami as if expecting something to happen.

"Problem, Bakura?" Joey asked.

"Yes," the white-haired teen said, confused. "My...my ring isn't...isn't working anymore. It usually reacts to nearby Millennium Items, but...but it isn't, anymore. I don't...feel _anything. _It's...it's like it's...dead."

"Thirak engaged in our...contest with the intent to take the Millennium Rod from its destined owner," Sethos said. "By doing so, he placed his own upon the gambling table. The Ring has acknowledged its new wielder. It no longer reacts to your touch."

Bakura blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. "Then...then it is yours?"

"No," Sethos said. "My time of true influence in this world ended long ago. The Millennium Ring now belongs to my successor. Seto."

Seto raised an eyebrow. "Oh, wonderful. Again with the 'collect the seven items' kick. I never remembered agreeing to this escapade of yours."

Bakura stood and reached into his pocket.

He fished out another golden item, a small orb.

The Millennium Eye.

"The spirit of the Ring won this, as well," Bakura said. "I feel nothing from it, either. They must both be yours, Kaiba."

He walked over and held out both golden artifacts.

Gingerly, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of the affair, Seto reached out and accepted them.

At his touch, both items began to hum with energy, the eyes glowing a faint gold.

"You now possess three of the seven Millennium Items, my successor," Sethos said. "Four remain on your path."

"Eh?" Joey asked. "Four remain on _what _path? The hell?"

"You mean..." Yami whispered.

"You have again forgotten your history, Cousin," Sethos said. "As I have told him and his family already...it is Seto's destiny not to conflict with your path to virtue...but to enter onto his own."

Yami bit his lower lip, cradling the Millennium Puzzle in both hands.

"Your reign as pharaoh has ended, Atem-Ra. Seto's...is about to begin."

* * *

**XVII:**

**The Gift of Rebirth  
**

* * *

This time, there was no shocked outcry.

Téa, Joey, and Tristan were stunned speechless.

Seto stood up and smoothed his suit jacket. "Yes," he said in a bored, uninspired mockery of a flourish, "as it turns out, _I _am to be your king. All will bow before me and revel in my ultimate magnificence, while I dispense judgment and favor at my whim."

He rolled his eyes.

Sethos smirked. "You and your stepbrother are more alike than is readily apparent, successor."

"I'd take that as a compliment if it weren't such an insult," Seto muttered.

"Hey!" Noa cried, scowling. "I have feelings, y'know!"

"Knowing does not equate to caring."

"Tch."

"Niisama, stop."

"Ngh."

Yami continued to hold his puzzle, rotating it in his hands, studying the pieces and tracing the edges with his fingers. "I'm not sure why...but I believe you. I...I trust you. I have one question."

Sethos raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Cousin?"

Yami looked up, and his eyes were apprehensive. "...If I relinquish the Puzzle to Kaiba, will I not...cease to exist?"

Téa gasped. "No! You can't do that, Kaiba!"

"Don't rope me into this," Seto snapped. "I had nothing to do with this scheme. Talk to that one."

"You can't—"

"Wait," Sethos said, holding up a hand. "Before you begin begging, allow me to answer my cousin's question."

Yami bit his lip again.

"I see you have formed a bond with these people," Sethos observed, "as well as with your successor. You wish not to leave them. I will not, I _cannot_, fault you for that."

He smiled.

"My power is tied to the Millennium Rod, but if it were to pass to another wielder, I would not lose this consciousness. Nor would you. You require only to find a corporeal form, much as what I created when I wakened earlier this day."

"But...I don't...I have no idea how to do that."

Sethos's smile widened. "You need not know. Allow me."

* * *

**.  
**

* * *

"Three. A pivotal number. Three is at the center. The pinnacle. The heart, the mind, the soul. Here lie the Millennium Eye, the Millennium Ring, and the Millennium Rod."

Sethos held out his hands, palms down, over the three artifacts. His eyes slid closed, and his body went stiff. His hands, as well as the Eyes of Horus, began to glow.

He remained still, energy fluctuating in strength as it channeled into the three items, for several minutes.

A sudden _crash _caused those watching to jump as bolts of lightning shot from Sethos's palms down to the items, branching out to each, and culminating to a single point, slamming into the Millennium Puzzle.

Like the picture of an old television smacked on its side, Yami's form seemed to split in two. When the distortion passed, though, the truth of what had happened was apparent.

Yugi stood beside the chair.

Yami sat to his right.

Sethos's eyes opened again, and he smiled serenely. "It is done," he said. "Through these three Items, you have been granted rebirth. Embrace it well, Cousin, as..."

The spirit's words slurred, and his eyes fluttered.

He collapsed, unconscious, to the ground.

* * *

**XVIII:**

**There's a Ghost in the House  
**

* * *

"Uh...that _probably_ wasn't s'posed to happen," Noa guessed.

Yami, nearly overwhelmed, stared down at himself, rubbing his arms, flexing his fingers, touching his face. He looked at Yugi, who stared openly at him, and at each of his friends.

It looked as though he were about to cry.

"T-Thank you..." he whispered, voice catching in his throat. "Thank you..."

"I don't believe he can hear you," Seto muttered.

Noa nudged the spirit with one shoe. "He's out cold. Gee, I wonder if making a human body is draining. Whaddaya think, Aniki?"

"Tch." Seto rolled his eyes. "It has been done before, if you recall."

"Yeah, but I think Yami, there, had more than a bit to do with why your little experiment with my body worked so well."

"Results, Noa. All that matters."

"Right. Sure. 'Course."

Noa nudged Sethos's unconscious form again.

"...Anybody got a marker? I wanna give 'im a mustache."

* * *

**.  
**

* * *

Solomon Motou came back into the shop.

"What was that sound?" he asked. "I thought I heard a crash. Joseph, did you blow up the microwave again?"

"No way, Gramps!" Joey said hurriedly, holding up his hands. "I learned m' lesson! Seriously!"

Solomon narrowed his eyes. "Mm-_hm_..."

He looked down and saw Sethos on the floor. "...Did you let him have some of my saké or was he just tired?"

"No, no alcohol," Noa said, "although...that _does _sound like a good idea..."

"Four months, Noa," Seto admonished.

"Oh, loosen up, _Dad. _S'not like people actually _care _about that anymore."

"Well, in that case, why don't you find some cocaine, too? We'll let Mokuba sprinkle it on his cereal in the morning."

"Why not? Sounds like a recipe for fun to me. Don't s'pose you got any, do you, Aniki?"

"Shut up and get him on the couch, would you?"

"Oh, _fine," _Noa grunted, walking over to Sethos. "Yo, Joe, mind givin' me a hand here?"

Joey grabbed Sethos's ankles, Noa grabbed his arms, and they carried him over to the nearby sofa.

"So...what happened to him?" Solomon asked again.

"Stroke," Seto answered quickly.

"Uh..." Yugi began, frowning curiously as he tried to think of how to explain what had happened, "...well...he...helped us with something."

"Well, it certainly must have been exhaust—Who are you?"

Yami smiled. "I am Yami, Mister Motou," he said, raising a hand. "The...spirit of the puzzle you gave to your grandson."

Solomon scrunched up his face. He blinked. Then, "...Oh? Is that so?"

"Remember, Grandpa? You told me about him when you gave me the puzzle. He's real. And Sethos, there," here he gestured to the sofa, "helped to...make him a body."

Solomon actually nodded. "I see. I do remember something about a spirit in the puzzle...he certainly looks like you, doesn't he, Yugi?"

"Mm-hm," Yugi said, nodding in turn.

"This is all very surreal," Seto said suddenly, "and I appreciate you all perpetuating the complete ruination of my mind, but I do believe I'm going to leave now. Hopefully when I wake up I'll realize that none of this has happened and I'll be able to go on believing that the world makes _any _sense at all."

He turned to look at Noa. "Bring him out here."

Noa rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders as he walked over to the sofa again and set about picking Sethos up again. As he struggled with the deadweight, every so often muttering a curse, he looked around.

"So...how 'bout that marker, huh?"


	7. Insert Title Here

_**It's fast-forward time, folks. Time to speed up the clock and see how things go once Sethos settles into his role in the newly expanded Kaiba family. I think he fits in rather nicely.**_

_**And by the way, for those of you who might like a more traditional look at the Kaibas' lives, you might want to take a look at my newest work, "Paved with Good Intentions." **_

_**And so, moving right along, here you go.**_

* * *

**XIX:**

**Insert Title Here  
**

* * *

Unfortunately for our poor, poor Seto, it turns out that Sethos _wasn't _a hallucination. You can understand why that would be somewhat traumatizing to him, can't you? I bet you can.

It's not exactly fun to find out one of your most firm-rooted beliefs...that is, dead people do _not _come back to life after touching golden trinkets...just might not be as firm as you thought it was.

So, Seto spent several weeks getting used to the idea of living with one of his ancestors. Coming to grips with the fact that he wasn't going away, and that that _didn't _mean that he was losing his mind.

Sort of.

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure about his mind. It may have been misplaced. Maybe Seto should put an ad online or something looking for it. "Missing: One Brain. Loyal, territorial, answers to 'Hector.' Reward offered."

Er...moving on.

But seriously, could you _imagine _the kind of reward a billionaire like Seto would offer?

You know...if he ever _did _offer one?

Ahem. Right. Anyway.

Sethos, for the most part, settled right into life at the Kaiba Mansion. Things went smoothly for him, barring an incident with the toaster and four tablespoons of whipped cream that...probably shouldn't be examined any further than that.

For a long time during those weeks, Seto wasn't exactly the most hospitable host, you understand. He's not exactly the type to be, anyway, and throw in the fact that his houseguest just happens to be old enough to be his...uh...ancestor...

Well, yeah, suffice it to say, things weren't fun for Seto.

Eventually, though, upon realizing that it was rather nice to have someone else in the house that could be counted on to look after Mokuba _without _feeding him enough sugar to level a small country, he grudgingly accepted that the spirit of the Millennium Rod wasn't such a horrible addition to the family, after all.

Not that he ever _said _anything to that effect.

Noa found the spirit quite entertaining, as well. Strangely enough, this was _not _in a mean way. He legitimately enjoyed explaining any number of things about the current era that Sethos might ask about. And there were plenty of things Sethos didn't understand.

Although, that didn't stop Noa from playing pranks on him every so often.

One of them went so awry that it is no longer permitted to say the words "washing machine" in the immediate company of Sethos Yameth, by penalty of...well, never mind. No use giving people nightmares.

This rule does not apply to Mokuba, however. 'Cuz...well, he's cute. And that's a potent weapon against just about everybody.

To close, we rejoin our intrepid (how many have used _that_ term in this context, I wonder?) heroes roughly a month-and-a-half (that's six weeks, for those playing the home game) after Sethos's untimely resurrection, when said untimely resurrector (Resurrectee? Resurrectite?) decided it was just about time for Seto to start cracking on that whole pharaoh-god thing.

So, let's break through the fourth wall and watch. If we're lucky, we might get to see another mental breakdown.

And, as we all know, mental breakdowns are fantastic.

* * *

**XX:**

**Yon Trespasser, Strike Thee Down  
**

* * *

Usually, Mokuba was able to spot his brother's limousine – and Travis Copeland, their usual driver – immediately upon leaving school.

It wasn't all that hard to spot, after all.

This day, however, he didn't.

Frowning, he scanned the parking lot, wondering why in the world Travis would be late; and, more to the point, why Seto or Noa wouldn't have shown up in his place if he had other matters to attend to.

The Kaibas had learned long ago that to let Mokuba walk home was a recipe for disaster. He was accosted by far too many people, whether it be admirers or reporters or potential stalkers.

The curse of being a celebrity, he supposed.

He just felt lucky that he wasn't as widely famous as his brother. Mokuba had a bit of a cult following, mostly comprised of girls spanning from around his age to early twenties (and some _men_ around that range, which was more than a little creepy), who thought he was just adorable.

Seto, on the other hand, was a superstar.

Not only was he a twenty-one-year-old billionaire, which was cause enough for scores of people to flock to him, but he was good-looking, charismatic when he wanted to be, and had such a widespread fan-base in the gaming community that he was some species of geek deity.

Sure, he'd lost some of his fire to Yugi, but people still loved the bad guy. So even though he usually lost his games to the vertically-challenged teen prodigy, he made enough of a show out of it that it really made no difference to the audience.

So, suffice it to say, he was nothing compared to Seto, but still mattered enough to be targeted by any number of psychotic people.

"Oi! Rich boy!"

...Point in case.

* * *

He didn't recognize the boy who had called him out, nor any of the other three with him, but that generally didn't mean anything.

Mokuba stopped walking and stood still, looking the boy in the eye like Seto had taught him. Bullies didn't want to deal with confrontation; they wanted submission.

They _expected _submission.

"My name is Mokuba," he said, hands flat at his sides. "Not 'rich boy.'"

"Tch. The fuck ever, rich boy," the unnamed nimrod said with a snort. "We gotta...talk t' you 'bout somethin'."

"Practicing your English?" Mokuba asked, employing the same tactic his brother always did when dealing with people like this: make them mad enough to make stupid mistakes. "It's okay. You'll get it eventually. Don't give up."

"...The hell you say?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mokuba said smoothly, "I didn't realize your hearing was affected, too. It must be hard, living with brain damage that severe."

The three lackeys seemed at least slightly amused by that, and one even cracked a grin. The head nimrod, though, wasn't amused in the slightest.

"You're gonna wanna shut up pretty quick, here, rich boy!"

"Oh, you poor thing. Delusions, too! How horrible!"

The nimrod started forward.

"I wouldn't touch me if I were you," Mokuba said.

"The hell I won't, you little prick!"

Mokuba smiled.

"Okay, but if you touch me, you'll be struck by lightning."

* * *

**XXI:**

**Shock Therapy  
**

* * *

Mokuba was beginning to learn martial arts, to the point where he thought he would be able to handle someone like this. The guy was big, but obviously stupid, and probably figured he'd have an easy time.

He did regret using something as inhumanly lame as "struck by lightning" to describe his lackluster skills in hand-to-hand combat, but it was too late now.

As soon as the thug grabbed the collar of Mokuba's shirt, however...

A bolt of white-hot lightning shot from somewhere behind Mokuba and struck the boy's hand, sending him flying backward. Landing flat on his back, the boy screeched in pain as he nursed the smoking, charred flesh that had once been his palm.

Mokuba whirled around.

Sethos, his black suit impeccably pressed and ironed as usual, was walking forward. He was watching the four thugs with a mildly curious expression.

"I do believe he warned you," Sethos said idly. "Perhaps you would do well to pay attention to that. For future reference, you understand."

"W-Who the...hell are...y-you?" the injured boy asked through clenched teeth.

"I would suggest you get that looked at, if you want to keep that hand. And it may be a good idea to leave Master Mokuba alone from here on out."

Sethos's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Am I understood...?"

The three uninjured thugs quickly nodded, seeing the threat behind the spirit's gaze for what it was: a death sentence.

"Y-Y-Yassir!" one stumbled out as he turned to walk – run – away. The others quickly followed, with the injured leader running the fastest.

Sethos's dangerous countenance lifted, and he offered Mokuba a smile and a wink.

"Seth!"

"I couldn't very well leave such a dramatic threat unproven, could I?" the spirit asked, smile widening. "Come. I'm to take you home."

Mokuba smiled.

"Okay."

* * *

Sethos had yet to master the fine art of driving, although considering that he had only watched Seto drive two or three times in the past weeks, it was nothing short of amazing that he had picked up on it as quickly as he had.

Still, he did not trust himself to take a car to pick up Mokuba, so he had walked.

"Your driver had a family emergency to attend to," Sethos explained when Mokuba asked. "And your brothers are at a meeting. I apologize for my tardiness, little one. I took a wrong turn."

Mokuba couldn't remember if Sethos had ever even learned where his school _was_, but didn't bother asking. Sethos, like Seto, just did things that amazed people. There was no use asking how.

"Your city is incomparably loud," Sethos muttered, the same comment he made every time he ventured out into public, and Mokuba chuckled.

"You get used to it," he said.

"Indeed."

He sounded entirely unconvinced.

As they waited at a crosswalk near a doughnut shop, Sethos stopped and raised a curious eyebrow at it.

"What is that?" he asked. "It smells heavenly."

"Uh...doughnuts?" Mokuba said uncertainly. "Niisama hates them."

"Is that so? And you, little one?"

"Well, Niisama hardly ever lets me eat them, but...I think he's crazy."

The spirit seemed intrigued.

When the light signified that they could walk, he reached into a pocket and withdrew a bundle of bills, money Noa had lent him, "to do whatever with."

He looked back at the shop.

"...Let's go."

* * *

**XXII:**

**Center of Contentment  
**

* * *

Sethos shared the same general eating mannerisms as his counterpart; that was, he was slow, methodical, and neat. In sharp contrast to Noa, who tended to bolt down his meals with wild abandon, Sethos treated each bite as its own separate experience, as if each were the last bit of food he would _ever_ experience.

It had occurred to Mokuba that the reason for that probably had to do with the fact that Sethos had not eaten a single thing for over three millennia.

It was clear, though, that while Sethos shared his counterpart's manners, he did _not _share his counterpart's taste.

Ordering five doughnuts, three for himself and two for Mokuba, Sethos was only halfway through his first by the time Mokuba was finished. That did not mean, however, that he did not enjoy the treat.

Quite the contrary.

"Magnificent..." he murmured reverently. "As delectable a dessert as I have ever had."

Mokuba smiled. "I keep trying to convince Niisama, but he just doesn't get it."

Tearing another small morsel from the pastry, Sethos shook his head. "I cannot understand. I must have him explain such faulty reasoning as he must have."

Mokuba laughed. "He has a lot of that. I think he's still trying to prove mathematically that you don't exist."

"Yes...he still seems reluctant to admit my presence. Coldly scientific, is my successor. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"Were you like that?"

"Somewhat. I was a priest, so I was trained from infancy to trust the gods...but a part of me always doubted them. It took many years for me to admit the truth of many events I took part in. That magic, and divine power, were tangible things."

"Did something big...like, _spark _that? Like, some really big magic stuff turned you around?"

"It was more a subtle shift in my point of view," Sethos said. "Menkaura always believed." Here he smiled, a soft, affectionate smile. A smile that Mokuba recognized as the one Seto so rarely had, the smile that said he was content, that absolutely nothing was bothering him.

The smile that only Mokuba himself had ever managed to give him, something the black-haired boy was extremely proud of.

Menkaura, apparently, had done the same for _his _brother.

"Your brother and I are linked," Sethos said distantly. "I am able to...discern his thoughts somewhat easily. It is not actual telepathy, although I suppose I could elicit such an act with enough concentration...but I am aware enough."

Mokuba frowned curiously. "Huh? You can?"

Sethos nodded.

He glanced up at Mokuba with a serious expression on his face.

"Do you know, little one, how often he thinks of you?"

"Well...kinda."

Sethos smiled again. "You are the center of his existence. His outward personality would state otherwise to most, I am sure, but nearly every thought he has is related to you in some way."

Mokuba smiled as well. "Niisama likes to push people away. He acts that way to force people to hate him."

"Niisama..." Sethos repeated. "You only ever call your brother by that title. Never his name. Why is that, little one?"

"I guess...to thank him. He's done so much for me. Raised me, protected me, taught me...and I know that he would do that, forever, without asking for anything. I could hate him, like most of my friends hate their parents, and nothing would change."

Sethos tilted his head slightly.

"I call him Niisama...to let him know I love him more than anyone else in the world."

* * *

**XXIII:**

**You Can't Cure Stupid  
**

* * *

"You're late," Seto said as Sethos and Mokuba walked inside.

Thoughts still centered on what Mokuba had told him, Sethos heard the statement for what it really meant: _I was worried._

"Mokuba showed me a...doughnut shop," Sethos replied.

Seto grunted. "You didn't let him have any, did you?"

"You know very well that I did."

The scoff and rolling of the eyes, again, told a different message to the spirit of the Millennium Rod: _Good. He deserves it._

"Did anything else...eventful happen today?"

"Some guys tried to...say hi," Mokuba said.

"What?" Seto snapped, eyes flaring suddenly.

That word meant precisely that. The meaning wasn't hidden.

"Young Mokuba warned them that to touch him would cause lightning to strike them. I believe he meant the threat as a...metaphor."

"And what did you do about it?" he asked Sethos in a cold, sharp command.

"What else would I have done? I struck them with lightning."

Seto frowned.

"He did well," Sethos said. "I believe you would have been proud. There was no flight in him. He more than likely requires more experience, however, before he is truly able to defend himself...which is why I stepped in."

Seto's frown deepened.

He turned away.

"...Good man."

A nod to Mokuba, which was enough to make the boy swell with pride, was the last Seto said of the matter. That, more than anything, made Mokuba happy.

Seto's silence meant his approval.

* * *

Noa had solidified his status as designated doorman, and so it was he who answered the knock.

He didn't recognize the woman, and neither did Sethos, but the spirit _did _recognize the boy standing beside her.

More importantly, the boy's bandaged hand.

"I need to speak with Seto Kaiba," the woman snapped indignantly.

"Uh...no...I don't think you do," Noa said flatly. "Seto's pretty busy right now, and explicitly asked that no one disturb him."

"I don't care what he _asked_; that man—"

"_I _don't care what _you _ask. Either you explain to _me _why Seto should be disturbed, or leave."

The woman gasped. "Why, you have _no _right to spea—"

"Don't start on rights with me," Noa interjected. "I have _every _right to speak to you this way, because this is _my _home, and free speech is still covered under the constitution of this country. Now, is there a specific reason you wish to speak to my brother, or should I have the police escort you off of our property?"

Sethos sighed heavily.

"Your _brother _accosted my nephew!"

"I doubt that. I've been with him since six this morning, and I've never seen your nephew before. Do continue."

"That goddamn fuckstick burned my _fucking—"_

Noa slammed the door shut.

He pressed a button, on the wall, activating a nearby intercom.

"You either speak to me respectfully or don't speak to me at all," he said. "I refuse to listen to that."

The response came from the boy's aunt.

_"Your brother threw lightning at my little boy's hand!"_

Noa's face slackened, and Mokuba – sitting out of sight of the front door - snickered loudly.

Noa pressed the button again, gingerly this time.

"...I'm calling the cops."

* * *


	8. He Probably Deserved it

_**A bit of humor, a bit of fluff, and a bit of plot development. What more could you possibly ask for?**_

_**On second thought, don't answer that. How about we just move on with the story and pretend I never asked it, huh? Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Doesn't it? Yes.**_

_**Here we go.**_

* * *

**XXIV:**

**He Probably Deserved It  
**

* * *

Mokuba was now giggling madly, burying his face in the cushions of the couch he sat on.

_"You will not! I'm serious!"_

"Feel lucky I _didn't_ call Seto out here," Noa said, a hard edge to his voice now. "He would be far less indulgent with you than I have been."

_"You think I'm lying?! You think my boy is lying?!"_

"I have no reason to believe you are telling the truth. I _do, _however, believe that your nephew's parents have failed their son and deserve to be arrested. I also believe that you require mental counseling. I suggest that you leave my property immediately, before my patience runs out."

"_That's it!" _the woman cried. _"I've had enough of this—"_

"The only reason Seto would even think of harming your precious little delinquent is if he made a target of our little brother," Noa interjected sharply. "Why don't you ask your nephew if he would prefer facing an overprotective black-belt in six different martial arts who's rich enough to afford any lawyer in the known world?"

"_Are you...threatening me?" _the boy asked now, indignantly, apparently forgetting his injury and the fact that Noa was at least seven years his senior.

"No, I'm asking you to dinner," Noa snapped. "Pick me up at six, and be sure to wear the _lavender _dress. It's slimming."

He rolled his eyes at Sethos, who smirked.

"Sell this story to a tabloid," Noa added. "They might believe it. Tell you what; you call the police, and convince _them _of this story, and we'll start talking. Now, please vacate this estate. Your presence here is unwanted."

He locked the door quickly, turned off the intercom, and walked away from the door.

Sitting back on the couch and pointedly ignoring continued knocks on the door, Noa glanced at Sethos and raised an eyebrow.

"Why'd you hit the kid with lightning?" he asked.

"Mokuba."

Noa nodded, expecting that.

"Good man."

* * *

"Officer McKinley called me earlier," Seto said that night at dinner. "Apparently a Judith Parson visited our home today?"

"That her name?" Noa muttered as he tore a slab of steak from his fork.

"Apparently she wishes to charge me for abusing her nephew, Terrance...with a taser?"

"Is that so?" Sethos wondered. "Fascinating."

"I believe we have recorded testimony of Miss Parson claiming you used _lightning," _Noa mused. "Never mind the fact that we got security footage from HQ placing you in a production meeting at the time of the alleged attack, and no such footage at Mokuba's school."

"What did Darren tell her, Niisama?" Mokuba wondered.

"I'm not certain. I believe something along the lines of, 'I know your nephew personally, and he probably deserves whatever delusional abuse you think he suffered. He probably burned himself with a toaster.'"

Sethos sighed. "I did not expect my...theatrics to cause such issues," he said apologetically.

Seto shrugged, obviously not concerned about the matter in the slightest. He took a sip from the glass of water at his left hand and licked his lips.

"If they can prove I did this, I'll gladly accept the repercussions just to hear the story."

* * *

**XXV:**

**An Appointment in Hell**

* * *

Few fields of expertise fill the minds and hearts of children with such deep-rooted dread than that of dentistry. Shots, drills, the smell of burning enamel, methods of surgery that double as torture techniques...all while a doctor in a white coat stares down at you with the malevolence of a dark, blood-drunk god.

Mokuba Kaiba was no exception to this rule.

He didn't act out upon hearing that an appointment for a routine cleaning had been made. He didn't scream, didn't pout, didn't beg for mercy, or anything of that nature.

He was legitimately, honestly terrified.

Though he did not know the term, Sethos believed that Mokuba's anxiety was severe enough to qualify as odontophobia.

"Will you...will you go with me, Niisama?" was the first question he asked when his brother told him about the appointment.

"Sorry, kiddo," he'd said dismissively. "I have a presentation on the latest Duel Disk model to give that day. Copeland will drive you."

"But...b-but..."

"You're old enough to be over this," he said. "It's a cleaning. There won't be any pins and needles. Just a toothbrush."

And that had been that.

He'd walked away, and the expression on Mokuba's face at that moment had been one of shocked betrayal.

He'd looked ready to cry.

Sethos had gone to his successor about it, and hadn't received the answer he'd figured on.

"Do you know how phobias are cured, Sethos?" he asked. "Exposure. Controlled exposure. If I hold his hand every time he has to have his teeth worked on, how will he get over it? He needs to deal with this on his own."

"And you...could have told him that, could you not have?"

"I could have. But if I treat the matter dismissively, he will either view his fear as irrational – because I am obviously unaffected by it – or feel anger at me for that. Anger is easier to deal with than fear."

The look on Seto's face showed that he didn't enjoy frightening his brother in the slightest. He was obviously upset. Sethos realized he likely _wanted _to hold his brother's hand, just to calm the boy's nerves, but believed with strong conviction that it would hurt him – in the long run – far more than leaving him alone would.

Sethos thought idly that it was a cruel paradox, being a parent.

* * *

Mokuba was sullen and jumpy for the rest of the day.

It was entirely unlike him, and proved to Sethos just how serious this was to the boy. This wasn't a simple check-up; this was torture.

He didn't hold his brother accountable. He understood why he was going. But that didn't stop him from dreading it. Unfortunately, since Mokuba was usually so hyper and amiable, his now somber mood darkened the entire mansion.

To Sethos, it was almost stifling.

Eventually, he couldn't stand it anymore.

Seto's logic was sound, and he wasn't comfortable with defying him. Mokuba was _his _responsibility, after all. But it just didn't matter to him anymore.

"Little one," he said.

Mokuba looked up. "Huh?"

"How would you like it if I went with you?"

* * *

**XXVI:**

**Making a Spectacle**

* * *

Dreckshire Dentistry and Orthodontics was a small building, a squat square of plaster set in the middle of the parking lot of a department store. It was a quaint establishment, one well-known for its doctors' skill and precision.

Seto had picked this particular place because of its lofty reputation, and his endorsement of it said quite a lot. Still, that didn't help Mokuba's mood any.

Still, Sethos was here, and that was something.

The spirit of the Rod was, after all, a previous incarnation of his brother, and so his overall personality was similar enough for comfort. Having lived – so to speak – for three-thousand years had done much for the spirit's patience, however, and so he was generally far more polite than Seto was.

Thus, when the man sitting at the front desk quipped – rather rudely – to sign in and sit down, he didn't react. He simply did as asked without question.

He filled out the information on the various forms handed to him without a hitch, and Mokuba realized that Sethos – like his counterpart – must have had the memory of a god.

That and, as he had said before, a somewhat telepathic link to Seto's own mind.

He handed the forms back and sat back down next to Mokuba.

Reaching into his pocket, Sethos removed several coins. He began to flick them – one by one – twirling into the air. He caught each as it came down, sending them dancing through his fingers and along his knuckles.

With his free hand, the spirit began pulling more coins out of his pockets, adding them to his other. His fingers danced dexterously, keeping the coins continuously airborne.

Soon, he had caught the attention of others sitting in the waiting room. Even the rude man at the counter was watching.

Soon it was raining quarters, so many flipping and twinkling in the air that they couldn't be counted. And yet, it never degenerated into simply tossing a handful of change in the air. Sethos continued to create an easily recognizable oval shape in the air, so long now that it nearly reached the ceiling.

All this he did with a completely unreadable expression on his face.

He stopped when an assistant walked out into the waiting room and called Mokuba's name.

Mission accomplished.

So busy staring at the spirit's juggling act, Mokuba had been too distracted to be frightened.

* * *

"I'm sorry, sir, but...due to confidentiality issues, we don't allow anyone into the—"

Sethos walked past the woman without looking at her.

"I'm sure you would rather bend the rules than face a lawsuit for disregarding the needs of an odontophobic child," he said, in a mimicry of Seto's voice so perfect that Mokuba jumped.

"I...uh..."

Without any further attempts at pseudo-socializing, Sethos strode into the room where the dentist waited and sat down in the available chair, not bothering to introduce himself.

Mokuba stepped into the room as if hoping it wouldn't be there when he stepped through the doorway. The dentist, Doctor Dreckshire himself, glanced at Sethos and raised an eyebrow.

"...Mister Kaiba, did you dye your hair?"

* * *

**XXVII:**

**An Unorthodox Sedation**

* * *

When it was clear that Doctor Dreckshire's constant reassuring wasn't going to help Mokuba calm down enough to stop flinching whenever he tried to begin, Sethos sighed and stood up.

He walked over to the boy's side and took hold of his hand. "Mokuba..." he whispered. "Listen...are you listening?"

Mokuba nodded shakily.

"Watch me, Mokuba. Keep your head still; watch me."

He did as asked.

His breathing was harsh, ragged, and his eyes kept flickering back to the dentist and, more importantly, the tool in his hand.

Sethos's eyes flashed golden.

The world melted.

* * *

Blinking, disoriented, Mokuba looked around, taking a few moments to realize he wasn't sitting in a chair anymore. He was standing, and no longer in the dentist's office.

He was nowhere.

"This place is what you have heard called the Shadow Realm."

Mokuba whirled, and saw Sethos standing nearby.

"What...how...?"

"I thought this would be preferable," he said. "Your body remains in the doctor's chair. Your consciousness, however, is here. Removed from the experience."

"...You can...do that?"

"I am a priest. The line between life and death is an intimate one for me. I have been given many gifts in learning of it."

"...D-Death?"

"Indeed. This is the world of the dead."

"That's..._really _creepy."

Sethos chuckled. "But easier to handle, yes?"

Mokuba looked around again. "...I guess so. But...how come it's so...so dark? And stormy?"

Sethos sighed heavily.

"...Each of us with the ability to enter into this realm will be drawn to that part of the land of the dead which calls to us."

"...Huh?"

"Chaos," Sethos said. "Conflict...danger...contradiction. A sterile wasteland continuously ravaged by the power of the elements. This...is myself."

"I don't understand. What...what do you mean, Seth?"

"I mean...that I am at war with myself."

* * *

"Y'know Seth went with Mokuba today," Noa muttered, glancing up from the folder in his hand.

Seto ran a hand through his hair. "I know."

"Didn't you want him to go by himself? Confront it? Get over the fear?"

"I did."

"So...why ain'tcha doin' anything about it?"

Seto chuckled. "What _can _I do, Noa? I have to face the reality of this...Sethos Yameth is my ancestor. He's my ancestor and he has some...power that lets him live."

"The Rod."

"Right. The point is, he is stronger than I. I cannot defy him, nor can I stop him from defying me."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Of course not!"

Seto groaned, tossing the sheaf of paper he was attempting to look over onto his desk. "He hasn't done anything to make me...suspect him. For all I know, he may as well be myself. Mokuba feels comfortable around him. He obviously cares for Mokuba, just as we do. He's never done anything to hurt him...or any of us."

"But you don't trust him."

"...Sethos Yameth is a mirror image of myself, Noa. And if there's one person I could never trust...it's myself."

Noa raised an eyebrow. "That's...messed up logic, there, Aniki."

"It's the truth."

"So...whatcha gonna do about it?"

"All that I can. I have to overcome his advantage."

He looked at Noa with a fierce gleam in his eyes.

"I have to find the rest of the Millennium Items."

* * *

_**A brief mention of Mister Darren McKinley, one of my favorite original characters. You may remember him from my older project, the recently finished "Back from the Dead," or perhaps even from my ill-fated revised version of "Twist of Fate," which I took down some time ago.**_

_**Darren will be a somewhat prominent character in this story, along with his family. You'll see why as the plot continues. For now, marvel at the irony and downright insanity of Seto's current plan of action. It's rather surprising, isn't it?**_


	9. Of Blood and Gold

_**Part 31 marks the original beginning of Book 2, "Weighing of the Heart," but I've decided to condense things because honestly, posting this story has made me realize how short each section actually is. I'm also looking into changing quite a few things, but for now, I'll stick to posting what I currently have.**_

_**This marks the beginning of the real quest for the Millennium Items, which was a blast to write, so I hope you guys have fun reading it, too. So, have fun, everybody. And be supportive. Seto might go crazy, otherwise.**_

**

* * *

XXVIII:**

**Of Blood and Gold**

**

* * *

  
**

Noa threw his head back and burst out laughing.

"Ah, but I never thought I'd hear _you _say something like that!"

"Neither did I," Seto growled through clenched teeth. "But what can I do? I'm not stupid. A dream wouldn't have lasted this long. Sethos has done things that are – by any stretch of imagination – impossible."

"Could be crazy," Noa said.

"The insane don't believe their insanity. They wouldn't guess it."

_"Non compos mentis..."_ Noa said idly, leaning his head back. "Your mind's as composed as it's ever been. And I guess the important thing for me to consider is the same goes for me. If you're nuts, then I am, too. And what're the odds that both of us are having the same delusions? Never mind Mokuba and everyone else who's realized Seth ain't you."

"I possess and apparently have claimed the Rod, Ring, and Eye," Seto said. "That leaves Yugi's puzzle, Ishtar's necklace, and the ankh and scales held by the man who calls himself the 'guardian' of the tombs of Egypt."

"...Your memory _is _impeccable. Shit, you remember crap you don't believe in."

"This guardian's name is Shadi. He's gone by the alias J. S. Morton on occasion, as well as the name Sadin."

"That so?"

"His name means 'joy' in Persian. If I am to believe the stories Yugi has told Mokuba, that's highly ironic. Shadi strikes me as a vindictive, manipulative killer. He takes his self-proclaimed mission seriously enough that no single person – indeed, no people at all – are worth enough to forsake it. He will do anything in his power to prevail."

Noa frowned. "Sounds like you."

"Doesn't it, though...?"

* * *

"At...war?"

"Thirak...the spirit of the Ring...has done battle with me before. You can't have known that, little one. But...I remember well what he told me, on that first confrontation."

Mokuba frowned.

"Akhenaden, brother to the pharaoh Aknamkhanan – the father of Atem – was the original keeper of the Millennium Eye. He was...one of Aknamkhanan's most trusted advisors, and one of his most fervent supporters."

The spirit sighed again, running his hand through his reddish hair in a gesture that reminded Mokuba strongly of his brother.

"Akhenaden had two children...and wished for his firstborn to succeed his uncle on the throne. He was...a devoted father, and only wished prosperity for his sons. Thus he...utilized all of his considerable influence to that end."

Sethos's voice began to hitch.

"One of the...most important actions of Akhenaden was to...create the Millennium Items."

Mokuba's eyes widened. "Yami's uncle _made_ the Millennium Items?"

"Yes. But...he failed to tell his brother the true nature of the items' creation...the sacrifice. The forging of the items required that...melted and mixed into the gold of the items themselves, the blood, bone, and flesh of ninety-nine slaughtered innocents."

Mokuba gasped.

"Do you know where Akhenaden found those innocents, little one?"

The boy shook his head shakily.

"...Kul Elna. The home of the thief king Thirak."

Mokuba's mouth opened wide. "And...and that...that's why...why he was...why he went...?"

Sethos closed his eyes. "The thief king...wanted Akhenaden punished...for the atrocity he ordered committed...and can he be truly blamed?"

Mokuba didn't know how to answer that question.

"Thirak decreed...that Akhenaden's blood must be shed in recompense for his sin. And that, in his mind, included that of his sons."

The spirit turned. "That is why he used you, little one, in his final stand against us. In his final bid for the items his village was ravaged to create."

"...Huh?"

Sethos turned his eyes to the ground.

"Akhenaden's sons...were Menkaura and myself."

**

* * *

XXIX:**

**First Step of the Long Road**

**

* * *

  
**

Mokuba's mind whirled as he tried to understand what his brother's ancestor was telling him.

"I am sorry, little one, to burden you with this," he said. "But I can only trust you. You...you understand me, as you understand your brother...you, and none other."

Mokuba had long known that he was the only person Seto trusted implicitly. He held knowledge in his mind that Seto would not give up under torture, or even death.

He wore that mantle proudly, and had resolved many years earlier, even if he hadn't completely comprehended the magnitude of it, that he would be that last bit of strength that Seto just couldn't muster.

Anything his brother needed, he would be willing to do.

And he realized then that this was true of Seto's former incarnation as well.

He reached out and touched Sethos's hand.

Sethos took it instinctually, without realizing he was doing it.

Looking down at that hand, he smiled.

"...Thank you, little one."

* * *

"Well, I don't know what you were so afraid of."

Mokuba jumped, realizing that he was staring up at the ceiling of Doctor Dreckshire's office.

"H-Huh?"

Dreckshire grinned. "Your teeth are impeccable, Mokuba. You had no reason to worry."

Sethos smirked. "Of course not."

Mokuba blinked.

Seto had been admonishing him about his lack of teeth-brushing for weeks now. He'd been having a toothache off and on for much of that time.

How could...?

He looked at Sethos.

The spirit looked back, far too innocently.

* * *

A call came through to the phone Seto had lent his ancestor the first week he'd arrived, and Sethos picked it up.

"Yes?"

_"When is his next appointment?"_

"I do believe Master Dreckshire said six months."

A silence on the other end of the line for a few moments.

"_...You are telling me Mokuba has no cavities. I know he's been lacking in oral hygiene for quite some time now. I've looked, much to his protest. I know he has at _least _one."_

"How odd..." Sethos murmured.

Seto didn't reply.

"Why, it almost seems like...magic."

Seto's exasperation was almost audible.

_"Let me guess...you had something to do with this."_

"I haven't the faintest notion what you are insinuating, successor."

_"...Right. I'm certain."_

Sethos winked at Mokuba, who smiled and winked back.

_"There is a matter of some importance I have to speak with you about when you get back, so I would appreciate promptness on your part."_

"I see."

_"I have a feeling you're going to disregard that."_

"Your intuition never ceases to stun."

_"Your compliance never ceases to impress."_

"I can sense urgency in your voice, successor. Apparently this matter is, indeed, important. I shall be prompt, as you request."

"_...Thank you."_

"Might I inquire as to the nature of this matter?"

Seto was silent for a long while, long enough for Sethos to wonder if perhaps the call had been dropped. But eventually, he spoke again. When he did, it sounded as though he were trying to choke the word back even as he said it.

As if he didn't want to admit the implications of it.

And yet, knew he had to.

_"...Shadi."_

**

* * *

XXX:**

**Balancing Act**

**

* * *

  
**

"I know the name, successor," Sethos said as he and Mokuba sat with Seto and Noa at the table in the primary dining room. Seto had his laptop and several papers spread out in front of him, along with an empty mug.

Noting that his brother had recently made a fresh pot of coffee, Mokuba quickly walked over and refilled the mug. Seto thanked him distractedly.

Noa was leaning back in his own chair, a black bottle of imported vodka and a shot glass in front of him.

"He calls himself the guardian of Egypt's tombs," Seto muttered. "He also holds two of the Millennium Items: the ankh and the scale."

"From what I was able to cook up searching around," Noa added, "those two are widely considered to be the most important, the most central, of the seven, among those who believe in and know of the items. Others say it's the puzzle, still others say the eye."

"The scale would symbolize death," Seto said. "Specifically the judgment of the dead. While the ankh would symbolize life. Balance. Yin, yang; good, evil; light, darkness."

"Impressive," Sethos murmured.

"Apparently the eye's a candidate 'cuz it belonged to the original forger of the seven items," Noa continued, "and the puzzle – pendant, pyramid, whatever – is considered because it belonged to the pharaoh himself."

"Aknamkhanan and Akhenaden..." Mokuba whispered.

"Hm?" Noa looked up. "Wazzat, kiddo?"

"Aknamkhanan," Sethos repeated. "The original holder of the Millennium Puzzle. He was Atem's father."

"And Akhenaden...?"

"The forger of the Millennium Items. He...was mine."

* * *

"The guy who made the Millennium Items was your _father?"_

"Yes."

Seto frowned.

"That's...not too surprising, actually," Noa muttered, and shook his head. "Anyway, yeah. That aside, I've been reading up as much as I can on this Shadi guy. He's a...messed up mofo."

"If he is anything like Sadin," Sethos mumbled, and it was unnecessary to draw the connection between the two, "then that sounds about correct. Sadin was a...visceral individual, to put it gently."

"He's been speculated to have caused...hundreds of deaths, mostly concentrated in Egypt but spreading throughout just about every country on the planet, all supposedly linked to trespassing on Egyptian ground. Specifically, the pharaohs' tombs."

"To desecrate the dead..." Sethos whispered. "There is no greater crime. Sadin and Shadi hold that to be the most sacred truth of their existence. Any who dares to disturb the dead will answer to them."

"Yeah, well...much as I enjoy a good murder mystery 'n shit like that...this guy's too heinous even for me."

"And why is it that you have been conducting such research on this man? Surely you are not planning a career in law enforcement? You, Noa, will not be able to find him...not unless he _wishes_ you to find him."

"That, Seth, my man, is where you come in."

"Is that so? And why do you wish to find him?"

Seto snapped his laptop closed and eyed his ancestor.

"He has something I want."

Sethos raised an eyebrow in turn. "And that would be...?"

"...Life and death."

**

* * *

XXXI:**

**There is No Chapter Here**

**

* * *

  
**

Life has turned upside down for the man who once considered himself as coolly logical as any machine.

What, exactly, happens to a person so deep-rooted in reality that he cannot accept the truth if it conflicts?

He trips over his own feet.

The unfortunate circumstances surrounding Seto Kaiba as he finally decided to track down the remaining Millennium Items and fulfill the destiny laid out for him by his previous incarnation is that for him, the truth always encompassed reality, and vice versa.

But when magic, when the Ancient Games, are concerned, the rules are often bent. Reality encompasses much, but truth encompasses all, and when one contradicts the other, only one may remain.

Most intriguing, perhaps, is in the way Seto decided to deal with the repercussions of this. That is, he accepted the existence of magic into his reality, into his truth, thereby breaking so many rules of that reality, breaking so many foundations of his view of the world, that it becomes far too shaky to stand on.

And yet, he did.

One could say he was selective in the magic that he believed in, if any sense could be made of that. Or rather, he only accepted the existence of such when in direct contact with it. Otherwise, it remained an abstract, and when one is dealing with a mind as analytical as Seto Kaiba's, abstract means nothing.

And so, while the items he currently pursued were magical in nature, ancient artifacts with the potential to grant him power such as to imagine it fully would be to drive oneself insane, Seto treated it as any other acquisition.

He looked upon the Millennium Ankh and Millennium Scale as he might a choice piece of artwork or a rare book. Simply something he wanted to have.

He went about the gathering of the Millennium Items as he went about the gathering of anything: efficiently.

He chose Shadi as his first target, so to speak, simply based on the knowledge that the vindictive Egyptian spirit – for there had been many accounts of his death – possessed two. That was all that went through Seto's mind. It was all he needed to know in order to make his decision.

Besides, Shadi would likely be the most difficult to convince when it came to relinquishing the items he possessed. Atem trusted Sethos, and Isis understood the importance of destiny, or at least believed in it.

Shadi was unpredictable. His system of beliefs were nearly impossible to pin down. So few people saw the elusive tomb guardian, and most who did met their end soon afterward.

Best to deal with the hardest undertaking first.

However, what Seto did not realize was that Shadi would put him through the most difficult test of his life in order to earn the items he desired, and it would not be a test easily conquered.

Had he known the nature of the test, the contest, ahead of time, in all likelihood he would have ceased the pursuit of it immediately.

But, that was not to be the case.

Seto began walking straight down the road to oblivion...completely oblivious.

**

* * *

XXXII:**

**Opening Move**

**

* * *

  
**

"_There is a choice."_

Mokuba stiffened, gasping at the suddenness of the voice. Looking around himself, he thought he must be in a sort of cave somewhere. The walls were dirt, rock, in disrepair.

Then, as he thought about what his brothers – and Sethos – had been discussing over the past week, he knew the answer.

It was a tomb.

He was trapped in a tomb.

_"You know his path. You know his desire. I give you a chance, a final chance, to appeal to his senses. You have one chance to end this."_

The voice was getting closer.

Louder.

Frantically, he whirled around, searching for some kind of clue. Where the voice was, who it was coming from, a way out, a way _in, _something..._something!_

There was nothing.

The room was sealed.

He stumbled back, and fell against something solid. Something hard.

Turning, he saw it.

A sarcophagus.

_"One chance."_

The voice...came from inside it.

He felt compelled, even as he shook uncontrollably, to lift the lid. To see.

But Mokuba was a thin child, with little strength, and even though the ornate lid to the ancient coffin was lighter than he had anticipated, it still took him several minutes to push it off.

As soon as he did, he wished he hadn't.

A mummy, freshly wrapped in linen, lay within. An elaborate golden mask lay over the face. Mokuba watched his arms, unable to actually control them, reach out and remove it.

Seto's face, pale and drawn, stared back at him.

_**Stray him from this path, or send him to Ammit!**_

* * *

As Seto held Mokuba close, rubbing his back gently, he glared up at Sethos.

The spirit lowered his eyes. "He knows."

"What?"

"Shadi. This was a warning. He will not relinquish the items he holds easily. The mummy, and the mentioning of Ammit...he intends to kill you, successor, if you come for him."

Noa, swigging a mug of coffee in one pull, wiped his mouth and snorted. "Cocky bastard. Thinks he can pull this kinda crap?"

Seto sighed.

"He knew you would disavow any importance to such a warning," Sethos muttered. "That is why he sent the nightmare to Mokuba."

Noa scowled. "Shoulda known that wouldn't do much better."

"Indeed," Seto hissed.

"You shouldn't go!" Mokuba cried. "He'll kill you! He...he...!"

"I'm no stranger to death threats, Mokuba. You know that. He won't kill me. There's no use worrying about this."

"But...but...!"

"Shhh...hush, Mokuba. Don't worry."

"Shadi is a powerful force," Sethos said. "Better not to take him lightly, successor."

"Power or not, he's made it clear. He is threatening my life, and as far as I'm concerned he has threatened Mokuba's as well. That leaves me with one option."

Noa was nodding. "Yup."

"I had intended first to simply take the items from him and leave it at that. Apparently Shadi does not want things to go that simply. Very well."

"I believe I know this answer, but I must ask: what do you intend to do, Seto?"

Seto's eyes were hard, cold.

Sharp.

"...I intend to destroy him."

**

* * *

  
**

_**There's something interesting about Sethos's father. Though I originally knew him by the name Akunadin, I've come recently to adopt the spelling you see here. There is more than a little similarity between Akhenaden, first holder of the Millennium Eye, and Akhenaten, formerly Amenhotep IV, the infamous Eighteenth Dynasty pharaoh responsible for the Amarna Heresy, an ultimately unsuccessful attempt to make Egypt monotheistic.**_

_**Akhenaden, in the story's timeline, is certainly responsible for extreme conflict, but it's nothing like Akhenaten's history. For one thing, Akhenaten lived in a much later time period. Still, I find the similarities between their names to be more than simple coincidence.**_

_**And as to the reference to Ammit...well, you'll see more of that particular creature as time goes on. This creature, called the Bone Eater, was a cross of three of the most feared and dangerous creatures in Egyptian culture: the head of a crocodile, mane and upper body of a lion, and the lower body of a hippopotamus, and was responsible for devouring the souls of those dead Egyptians deemed unworthy to enter into the afterlife, at their final judgment. She plays a similar role here. And those of you who know Shadi from the manga may remember that he is connected to her.**_


	10. Know thy Enemy

_**This is when I really started having fun with the story; the journey for the Millennium Items, and its follow-up arc, is probably my favorite section of the entire work. And something tossed in at the end of this section, here, should interest you all a bit. It certainly did me; I've incorporated many things into this story that I haven't before, and it made this story just as much a journey for me as it is for Seto.**_

_**

* * *

**_**XXXIII:**

**Know Thy Enemy**

**

* * *

  
**

The concept of murder was a familiar one in the Kaiba Mansion.

Kaiba Gozaburo had not been squeamish in using questionable methods by which to further his status. Even his closest associates had walked on eggshells around him, fearful that he would view them as expendable liabilities at some point.

Gozaburo, like Shadi, like Akhenaden, like Shadi, like Seto, cared nothing for the repercussions of actions he deemed necessary, regardless of the severity of them. And if done to add to his influence, no action was unnecessary.

Considering his present company, Mokuba supposed he shouldn't have been surprised to hear the prospect of killing someone taken so casually.

And really...he wasn't sure he liked this Shadi person very much, anyway. He still shivered, remembering his nightmare.

"You should keep in mind, successor," Sethos said, "that Shadi is not a man to be trifled with. He will likely disallow assistance from me, as occurred with Thirak. If you are to prevail, you are to do so on your own strength. Sadin advocated personal strength above naught else. His descendant will be no different, I suspect."

Seto scoffed. "If I go into this believing he'll defeat me, I have no business finding him in the first place."

"Simply a warning, successor. You are less than a novice in the ways of the Ancient Games. Your skills lie in a modern iteration to which comparison is...laughable."

"Laughable?" Seto asked, somewhat sharply. "I've seen your Shadow Games, courtesy of Ishtar's necklace. I'm not sure you have much room to talk."

Sethos smirked.

He reached into a pocket and procured a _Magic & Wizards _card, a magic card called "Light of Judgment."

He tossed it onto the table.

"That...killed Thirak of the Ring."

* * *

Seto picked up the card and frowned.

"Consider, Seto, the amount of effort you exhaust in laying a simple card onto a table. I believe I retain the ability to speak critically in this matter."

Noa frowned. "...Gotta point."

"The true games were not limited to the use of the tablets the former holder of the Eye used to create the version you play," Sethos said.

"...Oh?"

"The truest form were known as Penalty Games. This is more than likely the way in which Shadi will challenge you."

"Penalty Games," Seto repeated. "The way Y—Atem used them, it seemed to focus more upon the 'penalty' than the 'game.'"

"Against those with no...training, Penalty Games are used as such. But to those of us able to counter such things, they become the contest themselves."

"So what...like a rematch?" Noa asked.

"...Something akin to such, yes."

"But to people like Shadi, the only game is that of the Penalty Game," Seto surmised. "No point in wasting time with a preliminary match."

"Indeed."

Seto frowned. "If there's anything I've learned about Penalty Games, it's that there's no way to predict them. So...no way to prepare for them."

"That is why they are widely viewed..._were _widely viewed...as the most prestigious of contests. The challenger begins at a distinct disadvantage, and requires a heavy amount of skill and determination to prevail."

Seto sighed and shut his eyes.

"...The story of my life."

* * *

**XXXIV:**

**On the Offensive**

**

* * *

  
**

"...He plans to challenge Shadi."

Malik frowned. "Confident. Or ignorant."

"Or both."

Rishid, walking into the room he and his siblings were staying in, crossed his arms. "He will be required to challenge the dark one sooner or later," he said.

"Yameth is strong, but Kaiba knows next to nothing about the games. How to deal with them. To mentally prepare for them."

"Doesn't he, though?" Rishid asked. "Seto Kaiba has been embroiled in conflict and competition nearly since birth. The Shadow Games may be of a sort he has yet to deal with, but this is not young Yugi Motou we speak of here."

Isis smirked. "Yugi Motou has proven many times his strength in the Games."

"No, Atem has. Yugi Motou's will is not strong enough to handle Shadi alone, but I believe Seto Kaiba's is. He has been hardened, conditioned, through hardship to handle this."

"He is powerful, but he lacks faith."

"Faith? Sister, I do believe you are being too romantic and idealistic about this. He has determination, strength, intelligence...and most importantly, motivation."

"He lacks faith in the power he possesses," Isis elaborated. "He doesn't even believe in it. He treats his calling as he has any other. His mind is too narrow to accept the full truth."

"...Sister, if what you have told us about Shadi contacting the little Kaiba is true, I believe he will not only prevail, but easily."

"What? Why do you say that?"

"Because, Isis. You have not noticed this part of him, and neither have many others, but I have: Seto Kaiba is as fiercely protective of his brother as a mother hawk. Shadi has threatened young Mokuba. That is enough, to me, to prove Seto will defeat him."

* * *

Mokuba fell asleep slumped in his brother's lap.

Seto didn't bother to move. He gently stroked the boy's hair unthinkingly, using his free hand to scan the map currently burning on his laptop's monitor.

"We leavin' tomorrow, then?" Noa asked.

"Most likely."

"The Ring will assist you in locating him," Sethos said, "but only to a certain degree. Its tracking will only be so effective. We must locate his general area before it will be of any use."

"He'll likely be somewhere in Egypt," Seto said. "For obvious reasons, that is where he has made his home. We'll have the best chance of finding him there."

"Indeed," Sethos said. "He may send more warnings to drive us away. That may assist us further."

"Forgive me if I'm not exactly enthusiastic about that idea," Seto muttered. "Bad enough Mokuba had to go through that once. If things go the way I want it to, he won't have to again."

"I surely meant nothing in the way of condoning his method of contacting you, successor," Sethos said quickly. "But the possibility exists."

"Yes...it does."

"And how is it you intend to locate him?" Sethos asked. "Surely you do not mean to walk. Egypt is hardly a specific region in terms of such a method of travel."

Noa smirked. "Perfect time to give my new toy a test run," he said.

"Pardon?"

Noa's eyes twinkled.

"I bought us a jet."

* * *

**XXXV:**

**To Question the King**

**

* * *

  
**

After meeting his cousin again after three millennia, Yami was a mixture of emotions: on the one hand, he was euphoric, having finally a corporeal form of his own that allowed him to interact with his friends – and Yugi himself – in a conventional fashion. He was more than thankful for Sethos's act of kindness; he was heavily indebted.

On the other hand, the idea of Seto Kaiba being destined to be the next pharaoh was quite trying on the spirit's mind. While he was more accepting of his rival than, say, Joey, he still considered Seto Kaiba to be less than morally sound.

It was, of course, true that Seto was devoted to his brother. That was his shining good point, and it was a prominent one. If there was one thing Yami respected wholeheartedly about his rival, it was his parenting.

But that didn't mean Yami believed him fit to rule.

Seto was a confusing paradox of selflessness and selfishness. While he was willing to give absolutely anything in order to help Mokuba, he was willing to give absolutely nothing in order to help anyone else.

To people he cared about, Seto was a fine person.

The problem with that was that the list of people Seto cared about was so small that it may as well not exist in the first place. He cared for Mokuba, held some odd species of acceptance for Noa, and seemed to get along decently with his ancestor.

Other than that, he seemed to care absolutely nothing for humanity.

Surely such a person should not be given a throne.

He had thought of that nearly every waking moment since discovering the truth of Sethos's words. He hadn't doubted his cousin, but it had taken him quite some time to realize he legitimately believed him.

That, though, was something else to consider. While Yami didn't put much stock in Seto Kaiba's sense of morality, he couldn't deny that Sethos was an entirely different person, even as he was nearly identical.

The most important trait Sethos had over his descendant was one that Mokuba had noticed: he was patient. Yami, too, attributed this to the millennia Sethos had spent confined within the Millennium Rod. From this patience, Sethos had learned to accept people. He was empathetic, as well.

He supposed that Sethos would be able to intervene if and when Seto used the power he intended to gain to ill-fated ends. Yami surely didn't believe he would have the same motive as Malik Ishtar had, but he wasn't sure he trusted him, either. Not sure at all.

Upon hearing from Noa the day before that Seto intended to look after Shadi, the overzealous tomb guardian who possessed the Ankh and Scale, he seriously began to worry.

He realized, of course, that if he decided to, he could simply withhold the Puzzle from his rival. A Millennium Item, in order to acknowledge a new owner, must be won.

If Yami refused Seto's challenge when it came, he could prevent such a calamity as he feared – although not necessarily expected – would happen.

Although...that felt wrong.

He believed his cousin. He believed in destiny. He believed in the wishes of the gods. And he wasn't sure if he could defy them in such a way.

Even if it felt like the right thing to him.

* * *

**XXXVI:**

**Mutual Dependence**

**

* * *

  
**

Sethos held none of the doubts that his cousin did.

The problem was that Yami still viewed his rival from an outsider's point of view. He had never made any real attempt to understand him any more than was necessary to gain a tactical advantage in dueling. He had no real desire to understand Seto, and so never made the effort to.

Sethos, on the other hand, saw the true Seto Kaiba.

It was true that Seto was – for the most part – a misanthrope. He harbored little to no faith in humanity as a whole. But the key to it all was Mokuba, as he was the key to everything when it came to Seto.

Seto only cared – to any real degree – about Mokuba. What Yami didn't realize was just the way in which he cared. Seto would never engage in a spree of indiscriminate homicide, or anything along those lines that Yami may have worried about, because of Mokuba.

The driving motivation to Seto's existence, besides protecting Mokuba and raising him, was to make absolutely certain that Mokuba admired him.

To make sure that Mokuba was proud of him.

The worst fear Seto had, as far as Sethos had seen, was breaking the idealistic view Mokuba had of him. This wasn't so much for the sake of himself – although surely Mokuba's pride and love of him was one of the few sources of comfort the young businessman could claim – as it was for the sake of Mokuba.

As it always was.

Seto didn't want Mokuba disappointed in him, to any degree, because he knew that that would hurt him. Irrevocably so. To Mokuba, one of the most concrete truths on the face of the planet and in the whole of humanity was that Seto was a good, reliable, trustworthy person.

If you took the time to earn his respect, that was.

And that, Sethos thought, would be the key to keeping the power his descendant would one day claim from corrupting him. Mokuba would be his brother's conscience, as he all but always had been.

Sethos had come to this conclusion rather quickly after beginning to live with the Kaiba family, and he had wondered if it would be possible to convince his cousin and his friends of it.

It was an odd state of affairs, really.

Mokuba idolized his brother, and so always kept absolutely sure never to do anything to disappoint him. He tried his hardest at every turn to make Seto proud, to make him happy, to make his brother's life as stress-free as possible considering his career.

On the other hand, Seto kept absolutely sure never to do anything to disappoint Mokuba, either. He made sure never to actually, legitimately, seriously upset the boy. Even in times when he acted in such a way as to make Mokuba uncomfortable, it was never severe enough to truly tarnish the boy's view of him.

Seto and Mokuba Kaiba truly were dependant upon one another.

Without the other's pride, approval, and love, each of them would find absolutely no will to live.

* * *

**XXXVII:**

**Window to the Heart**

**

* * *

  
**

It was when they finally began flying toward Egypt that Seto finally found himself sufficiently relaxed to go to sleep. Knowing that his brother was a light sleeper even when he was exhausted – as he surely was considering he had been awake for the past three days – Mokuba all but commanded the other two passengers on Noa's "new toy" to be quiet.

It took very little to wake Seto when he was sleeping. A particularly enunciated statement would be enough, even if the speaker wasn't actually trying to raise their voice.

Mokuba occupied himself by playing a portable game, with the sound muted rather than wearing headphones, while Noa watched DVDs of a recent television show on a portable player.

Sethos decided to look through his successor's collection of _Magic & Wizards _cards.

Seto had mentioned to him that it was an American business tycoon, the president of Industrial Illusions, Pegasus Crawford, who had created the game.

Sethos found himself impressed by the man's thoroughness. He wasn't sure how, but nearly every spell, every creature, every maneuver he had ever seen used in a true game was represented in Crawford's version, with a vivid visual representation and a surprisingly accurate description and adaptation.

He wondered if perhaps the abilities of the Millennium Eye were more widespread than he had realized. Though the artifact had been originally owned by his own father, he was largely unaware of its capabilities, having never harnessed its power himself.

But somehow, Crawford had covered just about everything. There were even spells represented by cards that the spirit had never heard of or seen, but seemed to be entirely viable.

He also found himself surprised at just how many of the various cards his counterpart owned. He had found out from Noa that Seto owned at least one of every card Industrial Illusions had distributed to the public, and even a few that hadn't been. Most of the cards he owned were one of several copies.

The spirit of the Millennium Rod spent the better part of six hours simply sifting through the cards in Seto's collection, to the point that Noa and Mokuba wondered just how he could remain so engaged.

Hundreds, thousands of creatures and spells, each painstakingly created to properly represent its actual counterpart. Crawford had taken out the danger, the dark edge, to the games and had created a version purely based on skill and intellectual prowess, allowing for the masses to take part in a rite that had once been reserved entirely to a selective sect of the upper class.

Sethos found himself smiling at that. It was a brilliant move financially, and had allowed for something he had never even considered, and yet thought was a fascinating idea.

Seto considered Pegasus Crawford to be a menace, a parasite, but Sethos thought that perhaps he wasn't as bad as that.

He was about to ask Mokuba and Noa if they knew anything about the man when he came across one particular card. The artwork was as vibrant as a sunrise, its description as perfect a representation as he could have imagined...the card – cards, for there were three – was well worn, but obviously cared for, a testament to strength and nobility. A weapon of terrible power...of incomparable beauty.

The Blue-Eyes White Dragon.

* * *

**XXXVIII:**

**Kisara**

**

* * *

  
**

Noa chuckled when he saw the awestruck, enraptured expression on Sethos's face as the spirit dropped a handful of cards onto the table he sat at, keeping three in his hand.

"...Found 'em, didn'tcha?"

Sethos didn't answer immediately, as if he couldn't hear. He looked far off, lost in his memories or in some sort of hallucination, as if the pictures of the dragons Noa knew him to be looking at were speaking to him. He looked like an acolyte to a new religion finally looking upon the glory of his god, as if what he held in his hands were everything that mattered in the whole of existence, as if it were the Holy Grail itself.

"Huh?" Mokuba asked, looking up.

"I think Seth found himself Aniki's Blue-Eyes cards. He looks like a virgin at his first strip club or something. Wonder if we oughtta give him and the cards some 'alone' time."

Mokuba scrunched up his nose. "That's gross, Noa."

"Tell _me,"_ the green-haired Kaiba said. "I don't wanna think o' him having improper relations with a playing card any more'n you do. But look at 'im and tell me that ain't what it looks like. I mean, hell."

"Maybe Seth remembers them. I mean, the old Shadow Games used to be played with real monsters. Maybe Seth used the Blue-Eyes, just like Niisama."

"That, somehow, doesn't legitimize it any more. If anything, it makes me more freaked. He looks about ready to lick the damn things."

Indeed, Sethos's hand was creeping closer and closer to his face, as if it were a magnet attracted to a slab of metal. He seemed unaware that he was even doing it, a completely involuntary reflex.

"Oi," Noa said, not as sharply as he likely would have, except for the fact that he knew better than to defy Mokuba when it came to the boy's orders regarding his precious Niisama. If Seto woke up due to any noise caused by anyone or anything before at least twelve or thirteen hours had gone by, the boy was likely to blow a gasket.

Noa really didn't like dealing with a mad Mokuba. The kid was pretty damn scary when he wanted to be.

The word was spoken sharply enough, however, to catch the spirit's attention, and Sethos looked up and blinked, eyes alternating between Noa and Mokuba and back to the cards.

"Looks like ya found a few ya like," Noa said. "Blue-Eyes cards, right?"

Sethos nodded dumbly.

"Figured. Moku's sayin' you prob'ly knew the real deal. That right? Was the Blue-Eyes a real dragon?"

Again, Sethos nodded.

"No shit? Huh. That's pretty cool."

Sethos looked back down at the cards and glanced at each one more closely. Sliding each behind the others as he studied them, he finally after a minute or so placed two of them back with the rest of the cards on the table and flipped the one remaining around to show it to the two brothers.

There was no discernable difference between it and its two counterparts, but when Sethos spoke, it was with such conviction that it was impossible for him to be wrong.

"Kisara," he said in a reverent whisper.

"...Huh?"

"Her name is...was...Kisara."


	11. Necessary Sacrifice

_**I have relatively recently come to a decision about this particular work. The more I work on it, the more I see that could have been made better. The more I look at it, the more mistakes, and missteps, I see. I intend to upload as much of this original work as I feel would be appropriate, which is still a fair amount of material. Don't worry about that; I'm not going to cheat you.**_

_**However, I'm not going to be uploading all of it. Not enough of it works. So, what I'm going to be doing, what I've already started doing, in fact, is taking what I learned from this experience, and sitting down to work it through properly. This rewrite is still in its figurative infancy, but it's already taking shape, and it will answer various questions that I didn't take the time to answer in this version; most specifically, the reason that Noa has become the person he is. Yes, there is a reason for it. A psychologically, developmentally sound reason, I think.**_

_**You'll see what I mean when I showcase it, sometime soon. For now, we shall continue on in this form. Some of you may be pleased to see a few familiar faces in this section.**_

_**

* * *

**_**XXXIX:  
Necessary Sacrifice**

**

* * *

  
**

"Kisara?" Noa repeated. "The hell you talking about, man? Don't get me wrong; I ain't sayin' I don't believe the monsters had names or whatever, but...that's just a card. How can you tell which one's which out of all three?"

Sethos shook his head. "Pegasus Crawford was more intuitive than you believe," he said. "To the untrained eye, each of these three cards is identical to the others. But Crawford...he knew. He knew each of these three dragons from each other."

Noa crossed his arms. "...A'right. So you know this one's different from the other two. Who's this Kisara, exactly? To you?"

Sethos looked up.

"Kisara would have been my queen."

* * *

"Uh...what? Political move? Unite Egypt and the Dragon Kingdoms in an age of peace and prosperity?"

Sethos smirked. "She was not a dragon. She held the essence...the Ka...of the white dragon within her."

"...Right. Well, I always heard Egyptians were spiritual. Guess this shouldn't s'prise me. Guess you liked this babe, then. If ya wanted her to be your queen. Was she hot?"

Mokuba rolled his eyes.

Sethos chuckled. "Don't worry, little one. I won't...disturb you. Suffice it to say, Noa, that Kisara was beautiful. Platinum hair, eyes like sapphires...she called to me. Do you understand? Atem would doubtlessly attribute it to fate."

"Yeah, he tends to do that."

"She was...amazing."

The far-off, star-struck expression on the former priest's face was one that looked exceedingly off-kilter. It was the look of a man enraptured, the expression of a man in love.

And for a man who looked so similar to Seto Kaiba...that just didn't look right.

* * *

Noa crossed his arms and chuckled. "Yup. You got it _bad. _Sounds like this gal's the real deal. What happened to her?"

He spoke the words jovially, in a light tone, but the effect on Sethos was as if he had struck him. The spirit lowered his eyes and led in a shuddering breath.

"...It should come as no surprise to you both that my life was not a regularly pleasant one. My...time with Kisara did not end well."

"What...what happened?" Mokuba asked.

"...Thirak's final trespass against myself and my family was to...use the strength of the Ring, stolen from my fellow priests, to...to influence my father."

"He used the Ring to...what, control him?" Noa wondered, raising an eyebrow. "Was it, like...bribery? Something like that?"

"No. He...corrupted Akhenaden. Brought out his...his most fanatical self. My father was a decent sort, but was never the most passive individual. He was ambitious. He neglected to inform his brother of the grisly truth regarding the creation of the Millennium Items because he knew the pharaoh would not allow it. But he created the items for the good of the kingdom...for the good of his children. He was not always moral, not always kind, but...but he was good to us. To Menkaura and me."

"So when Baku—Thirak, I mean, used the Ring on him, Akhenaden's ambitions became more fanatical. More...violent. More imposing. What did he do?"

Sethos took another deep breath.

"In...in order to harness the power of the white dragon within her...in order to give me that dragon's strength...Akhenaden sacrificed Kisara to the Games."

* * *

**XL:  
Angel Heard on High**

**

* * *

  
**

"I...I don't know about this..."

"Oh, don't worry, Kay! There's no need to be so nervous!"

The slight girl who looked much younger than her twenty years still didn't look convinced. She looked ready to bolt at the first sign of anything, whether it be danger or not.

Katie McKinley knew that this was just how her friend acted upon meeting new people. Once she got to know someone, Kay was as social as anyone she had ever met. But getting over that initial step, no matter who it was she was meeting, always took a metric ton of effort.

"Yeah, c'mon, Kay!" Irena Gregory called with a laugh. "It's just Katie's parents! Trust me, they'll love you. C'mon!"

The girl named Kay bit her lower lip, clearly not convinced, but followed her friends anyway.

* * *

Darren Wilson McKinley was an officer for the Domino City Police Department, and he had been so for about seventeen years.

Darren's wife, Grace Jennifer McKinley (who hated her given name, so everyone who knew her called her Jen, and she even introduced herself as Jennifer), had recently opted to go to college in an effort to gain a teaching license.

As such, there wasn't much time that Darren and his wife were able to spend together. But this was a special occasion, and both were home. They would be home for the rest of the week.

Katherine—Katie—was the McKinleys' only child. They'd had a son, Isaac, but he had died years ago in a freak accident while Darren had been on the clock. As such, when she'd gone to college the year before, they had been worried but exhilarated because the house was finally theirs again.

Somewhat quickly, though, that euphoria wore off, and they wanted their daughter to come back home. Today she would be back for the semester break, and her parents were excited. Irena would be there, too. She had been all but a sister to Katie since kindergarten, and the McKinleys considered her part of the family.

Darren wondered, though, who else they would be bringing with them to visit. Katie had mentioned meeting someone new out at school, and that she was taking her back to Domino to introduce her to everyone. It wasn't often that Katie made friends. Ever since Isaac had died, it had been hard for her. She had plenty of people she talked to, but hardly any of them were ever invited to meet the family.

"Behave, Darren," Jen had told her husband. "Kate said she was shy. I don't want you scaring her off."

"My social skills are impeccable," Darren had replied smugly. "Remember, I made a friend out of the most antisocial man in this entire city."

"Yes, yes, and you're so proud of it, too."

"Don't worry. I'll be good."

He flashed his wife a winning smile, who simply rolled her eyes.

When the doorbell rang (why Katie bothered was beyond Darren), he leaped up off the couch and shot across the room. Yes, he was far more excited than was probably healthy. What could he say? He was overprotective, and being away from his baby girl for so long had him jumpy.

He smoothed out his shirt and answered the door.

The first thing that crossed his mind was that his daughter had brought an angel home with her.

* * *

**XLI:  
Glimpse into the Nightmare**

**

* * *

  
**

He wasn't sure just what this was.

Considering Mokuba's own nightmare only a few days past, it was possible that it was another warning from Shadi. A deterrent to keep him from pursuing his current goal.

The one thing he did know was that he was dreaming.

Seto knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he was sleeping in Noa's jet. To find himself suddenly back home was an impossibility, especially since he had been on the jet for two hours or so before going to sleep.

That meant one of two things now, unfortunately.

Either some magic or other had caused him to be transferred back home from the jet, or he was dreaming. And he remembered something Sethos had said on their first days together:

There was a clarity to consciousness.

One that just wasn't here.

As he walked slowly toward his own front porch, staring up at the mansion that had been his home for over a decade, Seto wondered how long this dream would go, and if it _was _a warning, just what he was supposed to garner from it.

He winced as he realized—in the back of his mind—that he was now honestly considering _magic _as a viable precursor to dreaming. Malik Ishtar had ruined his peace of mind with his damned trinket.

Sethos hadn't helped any, either.

He sighed (he seemed to be doing a lot of that lately) as he reached out and opened the front door.

The sight that met him was nothing he could have ever anticipated.

The first thing his vision zoned in on was the figure of Kaiba Gozaburo standing in the center of the room.

He didn't pay much attention to the men leaving the house (going right through Seto's body as if he weren't there...which he probably wasn't), but would remember later that he knew them.

What caught his attention was the figure lying at Gozaburo's feet.

It was himself.

Ten years younger, curled in the fetal position. He was crying, but barely. Trying to hold it in, trying not to give his father the satisfaction, but losing the battle.

Seto couldn't blame the poor boy for it.

The blood made it difficult for him to really survey the extent of the damage, but he could tell at a glance that what _this _Seto Kaiba was going through...was far worse than anything he remembered.

Then he saw Mokuba.

Barely five, standing in the doorway and staring at his brother even though it was clear that he wanted nothing more than to turn away. His soft, young face was white, pallid.

Almost dead.

Gozaburo noticed the younger boy as well.

"You wished to see, Mokuba," he growled, a wide grin on his stone-like face. "Now you see. I suggest you think hard on this, because it's been requested that _you _take his place."

Now the battle was lost.

The young Seto began to sob uncontrollably, wailing into his folded arms and shaking as if seizing.

The elder Seto, standing in the doorway still, unnoticed, was shaking as well.

His was a glare that could have frozen the sun.

* * *

**XLII:  
Relative State**

**

* * *

  
**

Seto opened his eyes slowly, jaw set, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

"You are upset, successor," came Sethos's voice from behind him.

Mokuba, who was walking past the chair Seto was reclining in, and blinked. "Oh. Niisama. You're awake." He looked at Sethos. "How did you...?"

"His breathing changed. Something bothers you, Seto."

Seto got up slowly and turned to face the others, noting idly that Sethos seemed to be sifting through his collection of _Magic & Wizards _cards.

He seemed calm enough, his eyes and face impassive. He had gained control of his body by this point, and he no longer shook. His hands slipped into the pockets of his slacks, and to any outside observer he would have looked perfectly normal.

But to Noa, Sethos, and especially Mokuba, he was anything but.

Seto had been taught long ago, in his early childhood, to ignore troublesome emotions. Anger, sadness, fear; he blocked these out whenever they threatened to overwhelm him, to keep a clear head. He refused to allow them to hold sway over him.

Of the emotions he had built walls against, there was but one he had perfected. He dealt with annoyance and anger on a daily basis, from one source or another, and knew it to be unnecessary and counterintuitive to let it control his thinking; he had no qualms of letting it out, on occasion, but never let it dwell in his mind.

Right now, Mokuba realized, his wall was perfect. Nothing passed his face. Not a single twitch.

Seto was absolutely livid.

* * *

Sethos frowned heavily after hearing the description, so coolly delivered, of his descendant's dream. Noa's eyes were narrow.

Mokuba was traumatized.

"This..." Sethos murmured, "...is no typical dream. But neither is it a warning. I have heard of this phenomenon. You received this dream as a vision, as given you by the items you now possess. As you claim the others, they will become more and more vivid, and you will be more able to discern details of them."

"And what is the point of this vision? What am I supposed to learn from it?"

"I believe you would know of it as Everett's theory."

"The relative state formulation?" Seto asked suddenly, sharply.

"Yes."

"How...how would you know of that?"

"I have been researching, successor."

"It's known now as the many-worlds interpretation. Bryce DeWitt renamed it for some idiotic reason. Are you trying to tell me that it's _true?"_

"Indeed. Do you understand what this means in the context of your vision?"

"...I do."

And for some reason, Seto realized, he believed him. The realization that he truly, honestly believed the information his ancestor was telling him was chilling, but still felt right.

"Wait, wait, hold up," Noa said. "I ain't studied quantum physics. What the hell's this 'interpretation' mean in English?"

"Yeah," Mokuba added, "what are you guys talking about?"

"It means we have to hurry," Seto said.

He crossed his arms and lowered his head.

"If Sethos is correct...it means that somehow...somewhere...what I dreamed has happened. And more importantly..._is still happening."_

_

* * *

_**XLIII:  
He Calls to Me**

**

* * *

  
**

It took Darren several moments to realize he was staring.

He tried to mask it with a very subtle smile.

"Sorry, but we're not interested in any cookies," he said. "Tryin' to watch my girlish figure, y'understand."

Katie didn't bother responding. She simply threw her arms around him in a tight hug. "I missed you, Daddy," she said.

"Missed you, too, baby."

"Come on in, girls!" Jen called from further inside the house.

Irena hugged Darren as well. "Nice to see you again, Mister McKinley."

"You, too, Renie."

He nodded politely to the third girl--the angel, his mind kept insisting--and swept a hand in toward the house. "Come on inside," he offered.

The angel smiled ever so slightly and walked past him.

In the center of the McKinleys' mantle was a picture of Katie and her little brother, Isaac, taken the year before he had died. Right next to it was another picture, this one of Seto and Mokuba Kaiba.

Over the two years or so that Darren had known and done business with the teen CEO, he had come to consider Seto and his brother to be surrogate sons. And while he wasn't sure if Seto or Mokuba thought of him as a father (in fact, he was almost positive Mokuba didn't), he sometimes liked to hope.

If nothing else, he supposed, he should have been satisfied with the idea that Seto, who was extremely antisocial and probably counted even his casual acquaintances on one hand, considered him a friend.

Darren, like the few other people who knew Seto decently well (which accounted to, at most, four), knew that Mokuba was the most important aspect of Seto's life. And considering that Darren had once been asked to watch the boy for a weekend...well, that was quite an honor, wasn't it?

He prided himself on that, oddly enough. Even though Seto was less than half his age, he knew how seriously Seto took matters of trust. That picture had been a gift. A throwaway gift, one that Seto had put little actual thought to, but one that Darren and Jen both (she, too, he trusted) prized.

When the angel started to walk toward the mantle and asked, pointing to the photo, "Are...these your children?" Darren had the inclination to say yes.

"No," Jennifer said. "That's Seto and Mokuba. They're friends."

The girl reached out and touched her thin, delicate fingers to the surface of the picture, seemingly entranced. Darren thought with a chuckle that she looked similar to Katie the first time she had seen Seto on television.

During her teenage years, Katie had had a huge crush on the young celebrity, and had tried probably about a hundred times or more to meet him. But, in the next breath, Darren realized that this girl didn't look like Katie had at all. This wasn't the blind adoration of a teenage girl, this expression that had visited her pale face upon seeing his image.

She looked as though she knew him.

Not just _of _him, but knew him intimately.

But she had asked if he was their child. So obviously she didn't know him...not well.

But she looked enraptured, like a priest seeing the light of God, and she didn't answer the question the first time it was asked, and blinked dumbly when it was asked again.

"What's your name, hon?" Jen asked again.

"O-Oh...my name...my name is Kisara."

* * *

**XLIV:  
The Golden Cradle**

**

* * *

  
**

"With this power, could one...enter into this other...world?" Seto asked, struggling to speak because the words just sounded too wrong to him.

"The ability has been theorized. It has been called numerous things: plane-jumping, inter-dimensional phasing, inter-planar shifting...I know of no one able to harness it, though."

"Do your theories say anything about what would be required in _order _to harness this ability?"

"All sources on the subject agree that the amount of power necessary to extend one's consciousness so far would only be harnessed by the pharaoh himself. You will require each of the seven items before even attempting such an endeavor."

Seto scowled. "...Then I guess I'll have to be quick about it."

"What exactly do you think you'll be able to do?" Noa asked.

Seto stared at his stepbrother incredulously. "...That is the stupidest question you've ever asked, Noa. What do you _think _I'm going to do?!"

"And how do you expect to _find _this place? If what you guys are talking about is true, then there are...fuck, _octillions _of worlds out there that may as well be twins of ours! And you wanna find _one?!"_

"Again, as I told Sethos, if I go into a challenge with a loser's attitude, there's no choice but to lose. I have to assume there is a solution, or I'll never find one."

"...Right. Yer right. Okay, so I guess first thing's still first: we gotta find Shadi. Pilot said we just passed the Egyptian border a minute ago. What's our game plan, here?"

"...The Cradle," Sethos said distantly.

"Pardon?"

"The Golden Cradle. Of course. The tomb wherein the Millennium Items were kept before their owners claimed them. The stone in which the items were forged."

Seto reached into a pocket and withdrew a folded map, which he spread out on the table Sethos sat at. "Do you know where it is? Can you point it out?"

Sethos studied the map for a long moment.

He tapped a finger decisively. "Here."

Seto looked. "The Giza Necropolis. I suspected."

He withdrew a second map and spread it out over the first. "This is the area. Can you be more specific?"

Sethos studied the second map, then pointed again. "There. I'm sure of it."

Seto looked.

He frowned, and grabbed his laptop.

Within ten seconds, his fingers were flying over the keys. Every few seconds or so he would look back down at the map, then turn back to the monitor.

"What's up, Aniki?" Noa asked.

"Just...checking something."

Sethos crossed his arms. "We're likely to find him there. Shadi's chief concern is the items. Especially since he knows you are coming to confront him."

Seto leaned back from the laptop and stopped typing.

"I knew it."

"What?" Sethos asked.

He turned the monitor so that the spirit could see. Noa and Mokuba leaned over to look. The site he had accessed was an article on the pyramids of Egypt.

Sethos's eyes widened.

"...The place where the Millennium Items were forged is the Pyramid of Menkaura."

* * *

**_To expound upon my theory here, let me try to explain: I began this story purely with the idea of setting up a scenario that could go on forever. I needed something long. This was a contest, remember, so I had to think quickly. My use of Everett's theory as a plot device may not technically be correct, but in what research I've done, it's the closest to what I have in mind._**

**_Essentially, what Seto saw in his nightmare is an alternate reality. A what-if scenario set in the past. That scenario, actually, is one of the larger parts of the story that I intend to change in my new version. But that's not important right now. Suffice it to say you'll be seeing a lot of these what-if storylines, because that's the meat of my conflict._**

**_I'm building a mythology here. And mythology has no boundaries. So have fun with it. I know I did.  
_**


	12. Unholy Excavation

_**So the response to last chapter wasn't exactly stellar; I think maybe it's because I didn't do a good enough job of explaining what the hell I was talking about. The bum-rush technique of writing complex plotlines is probably a bad idea. Heaven knows I'm not fond of the idea anymore.**_

_**Here's what I was driving at last time: there is a separate world, a separate reality, for every possible contingency that's at all possible. So, let's look at this with an example: in the manga, Noa doesn't exist. But in the second-series anime, he does. Essentially, what my theory means is that both of those worlds exist, and it's possible to "cross over" to the other. But it goes deeper than that. In the manga, Seto invents Death-T. In the second-series anime, he doesn't. Again, two worlds. And it goes on and on like that, until there are untold numbers of different worlds.**_

_**Seto saw, in his nightmare last time, one of those.**_

_**He will visit another relatively soon.**_

_**If it still doesn't make much sense, which I admit it might not, I'll reiterate that I'm revisiting this story now that the problem of a deadline isn't there. I'm recrafting everything from the ground up, and I'm currently sitting at about 18,000 words worth of material. I'll definitely make sure to spend time on this part of the story when I reach it, to make sure that I explain it properly.**_

_**For now, I hope that I've done a decent job of explaining my madness.**_

_**Shall we continue?**_

* * *

**XLV:  
Unholy Excavation**

* * *

Noa's face was unreadable.

"...Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."

"Me neither," Mokuba said.

Seto turned the monitor back to face himself. "Mokuba said that it was _my _mummy that he saw in his nightmare. Isn't that right?"

"Uh-huh."

"He likely did that to frighten him," Sethos said.

"Indeed..."

"He wanted Mokuba scared, and you mad," Noa said. "It'll mess with you, and he knows it. The angrier you are at him, the more likely he'll be able to manipulate you."

"I've used that strategy myself," Seto muttered. "'Anger clouds the mind. Consequences cease to have consequence, and the survival instinct is taken over by the primal urge to kill.'"

"I'm not even gonna ask who said that," Noa said. "Chances are I've never heard of 'im. You gotta keep that in mind, Aniki. This guy knows you. You've gotta be ready for him to get under your skin. You gotta make sure you don't let him lead you by the nose."

Seto frowned.

"Lord knows you're good at keepin' yourself closed off," Noa said, "but remember that Shadi knows your weaknesses. He already targeted it once. Admit it or not, when he gave Mokuba that nightmare it made you act. He's already manipulating you."

"...I know."

"He's gonna do it again. He's gonna do what every other person – Crawford, Ishtar, _me – _who's out for you has done: he's gonna target Mokuba. You know he is."

"I know."

Mokuba was looking down at his lap, toying with the hem of his shirt. "I always cause you trouble, Niisama..." he whispered.

"Don't say that," Seto said. "It's not your fault people are idiots. Don't worry, Mokuba. I have no intention of letting this man go easily."

"Yeah, kiddo, don't be hard on yourself," Noa added. "People suck. You don't. Don't gotta feel guilty for that."

Mokuba smiled. "It's still true. You always have to come help me. People always hurt you through me."

Seto smiled back. "Hush. You know the reason for that."

"It's 'cuz big bwudder wuvs you _diiiis _much!" Noa sang mockingly, holding out his hands.

"You're off by a quarter-inch, genius," Seto muttered.

Noa's hands went limp, and he stared. "I...you...you've _measured..._I have no answer to that. You son of a bitch, I have no answer."

Seto smirked.

Mokuba's smile widened. "...Thanks, Niisama."

"Oh, sure, no recognition for _me," _Noa pouted, crossing his arms. "I'm just an _outsider."_

"I love you, too, Noa."

Noa grinned. "'Course ya do. I'm perfect."

Seto turned his attention back to the article he was reading, and stopped short only a few seconds in. He grimaced suddenly, and snapped his eyes up to Sethos, who was looking a window.

"...Damn it."

The spirit turned. "Hm? What is it, successor?"

"Yeah, whatcha find out?" Noa asked.

Sethos strode forward. "What is it?" he repeated. "What have you discovered?"

"Sethos...I have a feeling I know how you will react to this, and I suggest you take a deep breath."

Sethos raised an eyebrow. "What?"

He tapped the monitor. "Here. I haven't done much research on Menkaura specifically, only enough to know he was a pharaoh. But...there's something about modern civilization that you may not be prepared for."

"What do you mean? What about Menkaura?"

"His body was removed from his tomb and put on display in a museum in 1838."

* * *

**XLVI:  
Magnificent**

* * *

"Kisara..." Jen repeated. "That's very pretty."

"Thank you," the girl replied.

"Do you know Seto, Kisara?" Darren asked. "You look like you recognize him. Perhaps you've seen him on television, or...?"

"Kay doesn't really watch TV much," Katie said.

"Yeah," Irena said. "I think she might've seen one show and, like, three commercials last _year. _And the only reason she watched that much was 'cuz we were. It's almost like she doesn't _believe _in television."

"I...I _do _recognize this man..." Kisara said, obviously confused. She looked back at the picture. "He...he calls to me. I...I know him. But I don't know...don't know how."

"Yeah, he _calls _to Katie, too," Irena said. "She's had the hots for him for years."

"I'm over that!" Katie protested.

"Yeah, but you still think he's hot."

"Well..._duh."_

Darren chuckled and rolled his eyes. "You guys never quit. You know how weird it is hearin' you talk that way about a guy I know? It's...surreal."

"No weirder than _you _being friends with the biggest celebrity in the frickin' _state," _Katie shot back. "You _do _know that, don't you, Daddy?"

"I've seen his face plastered on more tabloids than I can count," Darren admitted. "The quintessential bad boy. He's a number, he is. Obviously it works, too. Roped you guys in. Don't know why you bother, though. Ain't like he's ever gonna go lookin' for a girlfriend. I don't think he's ever _heard _of girlfriends."

"He's a loner," Irena said. "That's part of the appeal."

"And you know as well as anybody he's got a sweet side," Jen said, elbowing her husband in the ribs. "He's a wonderful father, and _that's _appealing, too."

"Right. Lemme guess, Jenny. You wanna divorce so you can go chasing after him, too."

"Of course."

"Father...?" Kisara asked.

"He's his little brother's legal guardian," Darren explained. "That tyke there, in the picture. Name's Mokuba. Nicest damn kid you'll ever meet."

"And absolutely _adorable," _Irena all but swooned.

"Cool your jets, Lolita," Katie warned. "He's liable to sue you or something."

"Oh, come _on. _You think he's a cutie, too. He'll be a heartbreaker when he's older. And I, for one, can't _wait."_

"All right, girls. Enough boy-talk. Aren't you both dating, anyway?"

"Well, not _each other," _Irena said.

"I'd hope not."

"Ben and me have an agreement," Katie said. "If I ever convince Seto Kaiba to go out with me, I get a freebie. And if Ben ever convinces Angelina Jolie to date _him, _he gets to die a happy man."

"Oh, _that's _fair," Darren muttered.

Katie shrugged.

"So whatcha think, Kay?" Irena asked. "You look like you're really into that picture, there. Got a new poster for your ceiling?"

Kisara didn't answer.

Her eyes continued to stray back to the picture, as if hypnotized. Darren thought it wasn't just the sort of fascination Katie and Irena thought it was.

There was something else, here.

"Well?" Katie pressed, crossing her arms and flashing a knowing smile at the back of her friend's head. "What do you think of our local heartthrob? Domino City's resident pretty-boy?"

"He...he's...magnificent."

* * *

**XLVII:  
Overstepping Boundaries**

* * *

"_**WHAT?"**_

Sethos's voice thundered so loudly that Mokuba jumped. The spirit's face was so contorted with rage that he looked like a different person.

He, unlike his descendant, wasn't very good at holding in his anger.

"Calm down, Sethos," Seto said. "You're—"

"Calm?" the spirit snarled. _"Calm? _You tell me that someone committed such an atrocity _to my brother _and tell me to be _**calm?"**_

"S'been done to a lot of 'em, man," Noa said. "Mummification's a popular study—"

"_DO I LOOK LIKE I WANT AN EXPLANATION?" _Sethos exploded, whirling on Noa like a coiled snake. "Are people of your era so fascinated with the dead that _all _are put on display like _prized trophies _or are we Egyptians simply _blessed with the honor!"_

Mokuba was frightened.

Sethos looked as though he were ready to combust. Anger so white-hot that it boiled in his eyes had taken over his mind, and it was clear that he would not listen to reason.

"_I _did nothing to your brother," Seto said sharply. "It was not _my _idea to excavate his body for display. People of this culture are selfish hypocrites. They would rally against the removal of the dead from their resting places if they are _our _people, but since they were yours, the practice is accepted under the pretense of science and education."

Sethos's fury continued to mount.

"Do I agree with the practice? Of course not. And if this power is as potent as you tell me it is then I will make certain that every mummy on display will be put back to rest, and that no others will be disturbed. But I _do not _appreciate your lashing out at _me _for something I had nothing to do with!"

Sethos was silent for a long moment.

The _crack _of his fist slamming into Seto's jaw echoed.

"Do not _dare _speak to me like that, you impudent _maggot!" _the spirit hissed. "Do you understand _nothing _of what I have tried to teach you these past weeks? Whomever deigned to trespass on my brother's ground has forced him from rest! My Menkaura has been _tortured _for _years_ and you sit here and tell me to be calm because it was not _you? _You speak from an ignorant society with no respect for the dead! You look upon Menkaura's memory and spit upon it!"

Seto, head lowered, rose slowly to a kneeling position. "...Sethos Yameth."

He picked himself up off of the jet's floor with deliberate slowness. His fists clenched at his sides. Mokuba couldn't help but shudder at the set of his brother's body.

Sethos, still livid, did not reply. His eyes were narrowed to slits.

Seto snapped his arm up, palm open, and Sethos was suddenly pitched from his position like a rag doll into his successor's claw-like grip.

Seto raised his head, and this time it was _his _eyes that glowed like twin suns seething and burning in his skull. Sethos's anger withered in the face of that heat.

He realized the mistake he had made too late.

"...You will never..._never..._strike me again..."

* * *

**XLVIII:  
Timely Interruption**

* * *

Darren rolled his eyes. He had to admit he'd never heard "magnificent" used to describe his friend before. He wondered how often Seto himself had.

But at the same time, she didn't strike him as the typical raving fangirl. Darren had met several of those, and they all had that same blind fanaticism that proved from the first how hollow their affections were.

For some reason he really couldn't pinpoint, this girl's adoration didn't seem blind. Not in the slightest.

She looked like she was honestly in love with him.

And instead of making Darren wonder just how whacked-out this girl was, to be in love with a man she'd never met before, whose name she didn't even know, it just fascinated him.

"Told ya, Kay," Katie said. "Told ya he was gorgeous. And you didn't believe me."

"He is...familiar..." Kisara whispered. "I...I know him. How can I...? Why...?"

"He _is _a celebrity," Jennifer said. "You may have just seen him in public before. You can never tell where he'll be."

"I...don't know. I don't think I have...but I _must _have..."

That eased Darren's mind a bit. The part of his mind that kept telling him it was _weird _was at least somewhat satisfied that _she_ knew it was, too.

"I can't guarantee he'll be all that civil, but...maybe y'oughtta meet him?" Darren suggested. "I can show you his home."

"Oh, I...I don't know..."

"Here, lemme call him first. See if he'd mind."

Darren stood up and walked over to the nearby phone.

"Don't worry," he said. "If he's too mean, Mokuba'll put a stop to it."

"...Mokuba will? But isn't he...?"

"Yeah. But he's the real power in that family; don't you doubt that."

* * *

Mokuba spent a good minute trying to figure out something to say while Seto and Sethos stared each other down. It was clear that Sethos was shaken by his descendant's display of power, but still incensed at his casual treatment of a situation he considered abominable.

Mokuba really couldn't blame him.

But he also knew that if there was one thing Seto didn't tolerate, it was being struck. By anyone. He did _not_ allow it, and every time it had happened in the past, he had retaliated with force.

Noa finally groaned, and decided to take charge.

"All right, ladies, break it up. You're bein' idiots about this, and I think both o' you know it. Seth, you know without being told that Aniki wouldn't condone _anybody _hurting Mokuba, no matter what the circumstances, and fucked if I would, either. But you're talkin' to a man who doesn't _believe _in an afterlife, and it's gonna take a crap-ton o' convincing to get through on that one. A'right? Far as Seto's concerned, this one's it, and guys like you 'n Yami are anomalies that he's only now coming to accept."

He turned to Seto.

"Aniki, I want you t' picture some prick waltzin' into a cemetery and diggin' up Mokuba's body just for the hell of it. You wanna tell me that ain't gonna piss you off? We both know that's crap."

Both were watching him now.

"Not a damn thing we can do about this now, is there? It's been done, and it was done almost two-hundred years before we were born. Best we can do is keep on the course we're goin', and if there's a way to help Menkaura's spirit after that, then we'll do it. Right now we gotta bigger issue on our hands, and bitch-slapping each other isn't gonna do anybody any good."

Seto was about to answer when his phone rang.

* * *

**XLIX:  
Squad Clouds**

* * *

Darren put the phone down. "...Huh. Not answering. Must be busy. Oh, well. I'll call back later."

Kisara seemed at least somewhat relieved by that. As entranced as she obviously was with Seto, she seemed decidedly intimidated at the prospect of actually meeting him.

Darren supposed he couldn't blame her.

Kisara seemed like a very shy girl, at the very least around strangers, and Seto Kaiba was hardly what Darren would call a social individual.

Someone as awkward as Kisara seemed to be would likely feel under attack in the presence of a man like him. Seto made no exceptions for anyone, and wouldn't sugarcoat anything when dealing with her. She'd probably run away from him.

"He usually answers _you," _Katie noted. "Must be something big keeping his attention."

"Yeah...must be."

To say that the phone broke the tension would have been a gross understatement.

* * *

Noa capitalized on the opportunity and said, "Yer bein' too loud. The Sky Police are onto ya. Better watch it 'fore they come in on their squad clouds and bust yer asses."

Mokuba burst out laughing.

And Seto sighed.

"I trust we understand each other."

Sethos sighed as well. "I...apologize, Seto."

Seto didn't reply.

Sethos hadn't expected him to.

He turned his back to the three brothers and took a deep, steadying breath. "...When you have succeeded...when the items and their power are in your possession and at your call...you will help him?"

Seto's hard expression softened somewhat.

"You know I will."

The spirit turned to look at Seto, and there were tears in his eyes. "...Thank you."

"Is it...is it really that painful?" Mokuba asked. "You...you said it was torture."

"I...I meant not in the physical sense, little one. Mentally...mentally I am sure he is in pain. His spirit...has been taken from the place where it has slept for millennia. He should be...left alone. For once, he should be left alone."

Seto shook his head. "If only it were that easy. What should happen is more than likely just the opposite of what will."

"...So it seems."

"Oi. Aniki." Noa picked up Seto's phone and tossed it to him. "Darren. Told ya the cops were onto ya."

Seto caught the device deftly and flipped it open. Indeed, the call had come from Darren McKinley. He raised an eyebrow and wondered what it was Darren had wanted.

He, and this was not something Seto was able to say often, understood that Seto wasn't a talkative person. At all. And so he very rarely called, and only when something worth calling about had come up.

He flipped the phone open and pressed the 'send' button to reply.

Darren answered on the third ring.

"_Seto. Hey. You doing anything particular?"_

"As it turns out, you've caught me at an inopportune time if you wish for me to do anything. I'm in Egypt at the moment."

"_Oh...well, shit. Uh...right. Never mind the visit, then. Uh...Katie came home today, and she brought a friend with her. Girl from school, y'know?"_

"Yes...?"

"_And, uh...well, she thinks she knows you. But she doesn't know from where. I thought maybe TV or something, right? But she doesn't watch it all that much. I, uh...dunno. Just thought she might remember something if she metcha."_

"What is this girl's name?"

"_Kisara."_

* * *

_**I fully acknowledge that I might be wrong about Menkaura's body. My research was shoddy at best when I wrote this version. I've taken a rather keen interest in Egyptology since this project began, though, and for my rewrite, I'm making sure that I have my facts straight. I can't make any guarantees for this one, though. My major source of information was Wikipedia. And we all know how reliable Wikipedia is, don't we?**_

_**If anyone has any info for me, please, pass it along. This project is a big one, and now that I'm working on making it what it should be, I want to make it perfect. **_

_**Thanks for reading. Hopefully this installment made more sense than the last.**_

* * *

_**THIS STORY HAS BEEN DISCONTINUED. ANYONE INTERESTED IN THE EVENTS DESCRIBED HERE SHOULD HEAD TO MY PROFILE AND TAKE A LOOK AT "CULT OF THE DRAGON KING," WHICH IS A MORE RECENT—MORE THOROUGHLY FLESHED OUT, RESEARCHED, AND BETTER PACED—VERSION. I APOLOGIZE FOR ANYONE WHO ENJOYED THIS PARTICULAR WORK. IT SIMPLY NO LONGER HOLDS TO MY STANDARDS AS A WRITER. I WILL KEEP THESE CHAPTERS ONLINE FOR ANYONE WHO ENJOYED THEM, BUT I WHOLEHEARTEDLY RECOMMEND LOOKING INTO ITS SPIRITUAL SUCCESSOR. **_


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